And the Stars Walked Backward
by Sunset on Heartache
Summary: The story of Hattie and Bella and Beau, of their love for each other and the people around them. Of war, and hurt, and loss, and strength. Of how sometimes, loving someone isn't enough. The story of friendship, lies, and the secrets we keep from each other. {Hattie/Jacob, Bella/Edward, Beau/Various} {Please read the Author's Note in Chapter 1.}
1. Chapter 1

_Welcome to And The Stars Walked Backward! :) **Before we get started, here are some general notes:**_

_* **FIRST: WARNING: **gender-bent, cliche, artistic liberties, bending-the-rules, etc etc. If you can't handle that things may not follow canon rules, then perhaps this story isn't for you :) _

_* Follows the Twilight timeline as if it were 2005_

_* Harry Potter characters' birthdays are moved up 8 years (1988 instead of 1980)_

_* Because I wrote this just-for-funsies, technology and references are as if the story were set in present day (sorry!)_

_* When I was writing this, I didn't really know where it was going, which may be reflected in the way I add things in and forget to tie them off for many chapters._

_* I wrote the first 22 chapters in a month, and then took a year break. The writing style and flow is probably janky because of that. _

**_Fun Notes:_**

_* As of posting this, there are 39 chapters written for a total of 210,000 words. And I'm still writing it. _

_* My main posting site is AO3, which already has 13 chapters up._

_* This is a drama that I wrote for my own amusement, hence why there are 39 chapters and 210,000 words and I haven't posted it._

**_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or Twilight, or any other recognizable concepts within._**

* * *

_That was the thing about secrets—you had to carry them with you forever, no matter what the cost. _

—_Kass Morgan_

* * *

In a shocking turn of events, it was raining in Port Angeles. From where she was peering miserably out of the window, she could smell it—rain and grass and petrichor.

(No matter her misery, she couldn't say it was an _entirely_ unpleasant smell.)

She was sat atop one of her few suitcases, watching the downpour with the thought that _eventually I and my belongings are going to be adventuring out into that. _She drowned her misery in a swallow of too-sweet lemonade, reminding herself that _she _chose this. Nobody was forcing her to be here.

Nothing but her own fantasies and morals were forcing her to be here.

The roar of a plane engine above snapped her out of her pity party and she watched a jet come in for landing. She could barely make out the flashing lights of the men guiding it into position.

Airports were unpleasant. They smelled weird, there were too many people, and no matter how many times she reminded herself she hadn't done anything wrong, the presence of police and border control made her nervous. It wasn't that she was threatening—she had to choke back a laugh at that thought. She was all of five-foot-one and skinny, slight of form, with wide eyes and a baby face. No stranger looked at her and thought, "Ah, yes, this one's going to be trouble."

(Rather, most people asked her where her parents were and if she was an unaccompanied minor. Possibly even more annoying.)

There was a momentary gap in the downpour, the lack of rain making the airport sound suddenly too quiet. Rivulets of leftover water ran down the windows until all that was left were droplets, racing each other down. Her lips quirked up in a bit of a grin.

As if in answer to her unspoken prayers, a slightly out of date police cruiser pulled into the arrivals lane. "FORKS POLICE" was printed down the side in a font that probably hadn't been updated since the seventies.

Ah, her knight in shining armor—she hopped off her perch, stretching her aching legs. She had sat in that position for so long that there were red marks on her bare thighs in the texture of her suitcase.

Forks Chief of Police, Charlie Swan, exited his cruiser and looked about for a second before entering the building. By this time, the slight girl had already pulled her knapsack over her shoulder, zipped up her waterproof parka over her lacy dress, and pulled the handles of her suitcase up.

You could say she was a _little _ready to get home.

Ah, but make no mistake—she knew there were pleasantries to be had first.

Just as she would have recognized him, police garb or no, she could tell that he immediately knew her face. He hadn't seen her since she was barely two, but they were drawn together.

A brisk grin stole over Charlie's face, twitching his brown mustache.

"Hattie!" he bellowed, swallowing her up in a hug. She tensed at first and then melted, not used to the feeling.

"Uncle Charlie, hi," she said, a little breathlessly.

Charlie gripped her shoulders, pushing her backwards and looking her up and down. She wasn't much to look at. Aunt Petunia called her a late bloomer—though she was nearing seventeen now, she barely had any curves. Her chest was under-developed, swallowed by the parka. But when Charlie's eyes lit back upon her face, he smiled at her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. His eyes misted over a little bit and he seemed to barely resist pulling her back in.

"You look just like your mom," he said. Charlie's voice was thick with emotion.

Hattie felt a little guilty—she knew that being here hurt Charlie a little bit. After all, it meant her parents were truly gone. But she also thought perhaps her presence was an opportunity for Charlie to allow himself to actually grieve.

"My mum was a redhead," Hattie protested, giving a short laugh. It was a hollow protest, even if it were true. She looked like a Potter: delicate—if not aristocratic—nose, wide eyes, strong jaw line, wild black hair. Only her abnormally green eyes and large, puffy lips were her mother's.

"Yeah, she was," Charlie agreed. He put his thumb on her chin, and then smiled. "But you remind me so much of her."

He took his hat off and swiped at his face, swallowing thickly and nodding once. Hattie toed at the ground, her flats scuffing a little on the floor. She would allow him all the time he needed to accustom to her presence and grieve.

"Alright," he said, reaching out for her bags. "Gimme those, let's get you into the car. You look beautiful by the way. Tuney's work, I'll bet. She always was a bit theatrical."

Hattie gave a short laugh, not used to people insulting her prim-and-proper Aunt. Though they weren't close (far from it, really) and Petunia didn't really like Hattie, she'd always insisted Hattie present herself properly. Thus, when the young girl had gotten around for her long days of travel, Petunia had laid out outfits for her.

Mostly impractical. Like the flats. Pretty to look at, not very nice for walking around in the rain with.

"I'd like to see her face if she could hear you right now," Hattie said, instead of answering.

Charlie took the two large suitcases, leaving Hattie with her knapsack and the smaller suitcase. She followed him to the cruiser, watched him shuffle some things around, and finally they packed her things away. Then Charlie opened her door and helped her in like a gentleman, making her blush lightly.

"See you got the family genes just like all the rest 'a us," Charlie chuckled, twisting the keys in the ignition and pulling out carefully. "Nice to see some family resemblance."

-x-

Mostly they chatted quietly on the way home. By the time they left Port Angeles and got on the highway, it was already dark, and Hattie had been travelling for nearly 48 hours. She couldn't keep her eyes off the stars though—living near the city as she did, she didn't get to see them like this much. The clouds had rolled off and though the pavement was wet, the sky was clear, and the stars were brighter than she'd ever imagined. She could see the constellations Professor had taught her about; Cassiopeia, Draco, Cepheus, Gemini, Orion and more she couldn't name. Astronomy had never been her strongest suit.

Charlie was interested in hearing her entire backstory. What led her here—even though they'd spoken of it over the phone multiple times during the process. It was so bizarre, going from thousands of miles away to sitting next to her estranged uncle, chatting about her childhood.

She didn't say much about Vernon or Dudley. They weren't pleasant people. She had the few odd scars to prove it, and she didn't want to spoil the picture Charlie had of them in his brain. Likewise, she had few nice words about Petunia—her aunt was a nasty, gossiping woman. Hattie whole-heartedly believed that had she been a boy, Petunia would have treated her just as awfully as Vernon did.

But she wasn't a boy.

Instead, she was taught her womanly duties. She did household chores. Scrubbed floors on her hands and knees for five hours straight. Gardened, cooked. Sat to be groomed, plucked, shaved, waxed to perfection. Shoved into pretty dresses and taken to tea where she was not allowed to speak unless spoken to. Then, because of all the housework and yardwork she was forced into doing, she was calloused and needed to have her hands softened.

Still, her being a somewhat pretty young woman saved her from Vernon's hands. Her uncle would get a tongue lashing if he left too many marks on her body. A smack here, a shove there—fine—but he took the belt to her once and she never seen him so sorry when Petunia got done with him.

It was all because of _magic, _of course. Another thing she didn't mention in her retelling of her childhood. Her aunt hated magic, but when Severus Snape (Professor, she called him) arrived at her doorstep when Hattie was five, Petunia had little choice in the matter. Magic made Hattie unruly, and Petunia hated unruliness more than she hated magic.

Professor educated her in magic for eleven years. Sometimes there would be others—a supplementary tutor, when herProfessor didn't have the necessary knowledge. But primarily he was her Professor, and he did well by her.

Even if he was a snarky git.

She obtained her NEWTs this past year (which in itself contained numerous complications), but she couldn't start a Mastery until she was seventeen, and until there was someone willing to risk their life to teach her. So, Hattie needed to continue on her path, figure out what was next.

Forks, Washington was what was next.

Not only did Charlie live there (a fact that Professor had briskly informed her of), but it was nearby the Quileute Reservation. La Push. Home of Quileute tribe, which legend had it, descended from wolves.

It was all pure coincidence. In fact, Hattie hadn't even known she'd had an Uncle Charlie until Professor told her so. And for him to live so close to the Quileute tribe—well, it was like fate.

Her mastery would be in defensive magics and healing, but her _true _interest had always been human-animal transfiguration: animagi. And she figured that the Quileute legends might have some information for her, since there were few known teachers of the profession. Becoming an animagus was an unnecessary frivolity that many wouldn't be awarded, but Hattie just knew the magic would come easy to her—and she had to stay out of the way, anyways, so she might as well be doing something useful.

This was of course her story for Charlie, too. First, she wanted to meet him—desperately, she wanted to. Like she'd never wanted anything in her life. Hattie craved a family, fantasized about a loving home. Professor had been good to her, but he had never been _warm._ He cared for her well-being, but Hattie held no illusions that he loved her. It was what she wanted more than anything.

Secondly, she told him that she was very interested in myths and legends, which were rife in this area of Washington. Charlie hadn't thought that was a very good reason to uproot herself ("There's that internet now, after all!") but when she explained it was an education thing, for a thesis-like project, he'd given in.

A very distant last reason was the want to get away from Petunia and Vernon Dursley. She could've survived there for the next year and a half until she turned eighteen, but she just didn't _want _to anymore…not if there was another option. So she'd reached out to Charlie, opened the communication. In a month she was applying for a visa. A little more time passed and she was saying goodbye to Professor, packing up her belongings, and leaving behind Little Whinging.

Hattie smiled to herself as she watched the stars go by. She told Charlie all about her Professor, who taught her everything she knew. She told him of warm summer days in the library, spending more time with teachers than with kids her own age, just how she'd liked it.

But she said the bare minimum about the Dursleys—and if Charlie noticed, he didn't say anything.

—x—

"Hattie, wake up hun, we're home."

She unstuck her cheek from the window, heavy with the kind of grogginess you get when you've just come out of a great, much needed nap. Hattie stretched her body, working out the kinks, and took in the great expanse before her.

Her new home was a two-story house and a garage with a loft, looking cozy and quaint. The driveway was a bit busted up she could see, and there was a winding gravel path up to the front porch, though the driveway itself narrowed to a point between the garage and the house. Overgrown grass and plants lived in the flowerbeds. The house was a little shabby—a little too much dirt on the exterior, a few too many loose shingles. The picket fence around the flower beds was more gray than white. The mail box was crooked and the flag hung loose.

Her Aunt would have hated it.

Hattie grinned widely. It was _perfect._

"I love this place," she exhaled, taking a great breath of fresh air as she stepped out of the car. There was the smell of wet grass and pavement, and trees—so many trees. The house bordered on a forest. "I love it."

Charlie was the one blushing now, scratching his neck. "Ah, you know. 'S not much, but it's home."

They headed inside, Charlie showing her around the small house as they went. The worn furniture looked so inviting that Hattie debated just curling up on the couch and sleeping there, but Charlie was already ushering her up the stairs.

There were three rooms at the top of the stairs: Charlie's, a bathroom, and the one Hattie would be staying in for now. Her uncle brought her things into the room and patted her shoulder, leaving her alone for the night.

Hattie was dead tired, but she rifled through her suitcase looking for night things. In the morning she would do a little unpacking and a little looking around—this room belonged to Charlie's kids and it wasn't entirely empty. She could see a picture of them on the wall and was curious to snoop a little…but that would wait until she'd had some rest.

The twins' bunkbeds had been removed and replaced with a regular full-sized mattress, turned down with a blue bed set. She snuggled into it, listening to the wind and the rain as she fell asleep.

Hattie slept better than she had in months.

—x—

"G'mornin' Hattie," Charlie called, already headed toward the coffee pot in the kitchen. Hattie was curled in one of the mismatched dining chairs, one hand resting idly on her mug and the other holding open her novel. "Been up long?"

Hattie glanced up and smiled. "Not too long. I was pretty tired. I made some breakfast—it's still in the skillet, probably still warm."

He gave her an appraising look and lifted the lid of the skillet. Hattie continued smiling as she went back to her novel, sipping her coffee. The smell of eggs scrambled with peppers and cheese (the only foods that had occupied the fridge) wafted over to her as he helped himself. Charlie sat across from her, digging into his food like a starved wolf.

"I almost never get home cooking," Charlie groused, once it was gone. "What're you reading?"

Hattie hemmed, marking her page and closing the novel. "Just a novel," she told him, sitting up straighter and uncurling her legs. "What're the plans for the day?"

He took a drag from his mug, which, like hers, was pretty milky. When he clinked it back onto the table, staring off into the distance, he finally answered. "I have to go into work for a bit, but if you need anything I can leave money for a cab."

Hattie drummed her fingers on the table. It must be weird for Charlie to suddenly share his home with someone, and a teenage someone at that. It had been so long since anyone had lived with him with any sort of permanency. Of course he wouldn't be used to hanging around the house.

Instead of sharing her thoughts, she gave him a bashful grin. "No need, I think I'll just spend the day settling in. I want to do some unpacking and maybe I'll take a walk if the weather holds out."

Charlie seemed put-off by the thought of her heading into town by herself. "We need to get you set up with a phone before long, that way if you get into trouble you can call someone. Probably a couple other things we should do—get your license, get your transcripts for school, all 'a that. I guess that can wait for you to get settled though."

He heaved himself up from the table and put his dish in the sink. Before heading off to work he wrote her out a list of phone numbers ("This one's my cell phone, here's my work phone, this is the house number. If you can't get a hold of me here's Billy Black's number, I should take you out to meet him 'n his son, you'd like 'em. Oh, and here's the number for Harry Clearwater…") and told her to be careful if she went out. It was a sentiment she was used to—people looked at Hattie and saw a girl much younger than she actually was, much more delicate, and tended to worry.

Nevertheless, she agreed she'd be careful. Charlie smiled at her and ruffled her hair as he left, still buckling his gun holster onto his belt.

After he left, Hattie washed up the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen a little. When she had finished, she went back up to the room she was borrowing.

Her suitcases were pushed into a corner, out of the way. As she opened the curtains and took in the room, she smiled fondly. It didn't really look lived in—there was, of course, the unmade bed, but that was her personal touch. The desk in the corner had an ancient computer on it, the phone line running to it was stapled to the wall. The desk and its drawers were empty, but the dresser had a couple of picture frames on it and some knickknacks in the drawers.

There was a picture of three small children: two boys and a girl. The boys were opposites, one pale with brown hair and blue eyes, skinny save for that chubby baby look a lot of kids have. This must be Beaufort, Hattie's cousin.

The other boy was brown—his russet skin was more than just sun-kissed, and she assumed he must be one of the natives from the nearby tribe. His black hair was overlong and his eyes were darker than Beaufort's, but they sparked with a mischief that made them seem lighter. His body had the wiry toned look of kids used to spending all their time outside.

The girl—Hattie's other cousin, Isabella—looked like a female version of her brother. She was perhaps a little taller, but if she cut her hair and the duo donned the same clothes, they'd be close to identical except for the eyes. Her eyes were brown, the same shade as her hair. Isabella looked unhappy, and Hattie had a feeling it had nothing to do with Beaufort's hand mussing her hair.

Turning away from the picture frame, Hattie decided she'd snooped enough. It was time to unpack a little bit.

She laid out her clothes on the bed, making a list of what clothing items she'd need in the coming months. It had been a pretty mild day yesterday, for early December, but Hattie had a feeling the weather wouldn't last. Even yesterday her thin parka hadn't been enough to keep her warm—she'd need proper winter attire soon.

Most of her clothing was the pretty tea dresses her aunt preferred her in. She had oodles of the things, with shoes to match. There were also night things, smart skirts and blouses, underthings. She had one swimming suit (modest, showing just enough skin to be a tad risqué—her aunt wanted Hattie to be envied by all the other neighbors' daughters. After all, that was the entire point of being a dress-up doll), a couple pairs of trousers mostly worn when she was tending the garden, a sun hat. Hidden beneath it all was one pair of workout clothes, one pair of jeans, one t-shirt, one hoodie—all kept very secret from her aunt.

After her clothes were out of the way and she had dressed herself for the day, Hattie took the majority of her personal items downstairs with her.

In early January, Charlie's kids would be coming to live with them. Their mother had gotten remarried recently and they wanted to give the new couple space.

Unfortunately, because Charlie's house was so tiny, that put a little bit of a damper on the living arrangements. Three teenagers simply could not fit in that tiny childhood bedroom.

_Luckily, _Charlie's garage had a loft over it—and he and his buddies had spent the summer renovating it into a sort of apartment. Hattie hadn't seen it yet, but the plan had been for her and Isabella to share the loft, which would have two bedrooms and a bathroom.

It was three quick steps from the back door to the side door of the garage, and the overhang from the two buildings' roofs meant Hattie hardly got wet at all. She unlocked the garage and dragged her suitcase up the stairs to the loft, noting the obvious signs of recent cleaning.

Upstairs she saw that there was a small entry way to hang coats and umbrellas, where she took her shoes off before venturing to one of the rooms. It wasn't anything super impressive: small, just enough room for the bed, dresser, a bookshelf and a desk. There was a small closet and a large window, and Hattie felt at peace in the room.

The other room was the same, though the layout was a little different due to the shape of the loft. Hattie claimed one and stacked her few books and personal items into it, made the bed with the provided bed set, and left to go back to the house.

—x—

It was evening by the time Charlie came home and Hattie was curled up in the very couch she'd eyed the night before. (It was just as comfortable as she'd imagined it.) Her novel was mostly finished now, and she'd showered and was in her pajamas.

Charlie called out to her as he came in the door, stomping his soggy boots on the mat. "Hattie?"

"In here, Uncle Charlie," she responded, marking her page. "I was going to cook dinner but there was nothing in the fridge."

He came in, having already unbuttoned his work shirt. He was looking around the house with appraising eyes. "You didn't have to clean up," he said gruffly. "Looks good though."

She'd spent the day doing some fine detail cleaning just to busy herself. The house wasn't really _dirty, _just obviously hadn't been deep cleaned in a while: the grout was stained, the glass on the oven had needed to be degreased, the windows were kind of smudgy, the shelves had needed to be dusted. It wasn't a super noticeable cleaning job and Hattie was flattered he noticed.

They ate pizza that night, something Hattie learned in the coming weeks that Charlie was very accustomed to doing if she didn't prepare a meal. He promised they'd go to the grocery store soon and told her that he didn't really cook. (She'd already figured that out, of course.)

They chatted some, but mostly they just enjoyed each other's presence quietly. Neither of them were inane chatterers, something Hattie was internally grateful for. It was good to be quiet together. Sometimes silence was more comforting than forced conversation. After dinner, Hattie found herself tucked back up in her (borrowed) bed, smiling at the ceiling.

She thought perhaps she could come to love Forks.

* * *

_There it is. I'm going to be slowly posting the next several chapters tonight, to catch us up with AO3. If you like it, leave me a review. If you don't...thanks for stopping by!_

**_Bella and Beau make their appearance in Chapter 5! (This chapter takes place in late November or early December, and the Swans don't arrive in Forks until January.) _**


	2. Chapter 2

**02.**

_His eyes gleamed in a way that suggested staying out of trouble meant staying far, far away from him. _—_Sarah J. Maas_

* * *

Hattie didn't get to do much exploring her first few days in Forks—she was either busy with Charlie or it was raining.

It was a shame, because the too-green forest butted up to their property perfectly. Hattie could spy a narrow walking path from Beaufort's window and it called to her, taunted her to decipher its secrets.

But there were things for her to do first.

Laden down with papers upon papers stacked in manila envelopes, Hattie spent her second day in Forks at high school. The rundown little office was dreary and looked out over a concrete parking lot full of older cars, bright against the gray skies. Her counselor hardly noticed Hattie's lack of attention.

Charlie and Ms. Cope were eking out the details of Hattie's next half of a year. It wasn't often that someone transferred schools cross-country, let alone trans-Atlantic, and as such the school had no formal system for transferring credits. Everything had to be done by hand. The grading scale was completely different between England and the United States, so they were trying not to set her up for failure due to precarious grade points.

Hattie had already taken two placement tests for core subjects (one math, one science) and was waiting for the grades to come back, but she'd talked Ms. Cope out of an English placement. Charlie and Ms. Cope were discussing US History (which Hattie knew little about) when Hattie lost herself staring out into the parking lot.

Class must have just let out. Students swarmed from one classroom to the next in rubber rain coats and umbrellas. She watched them laugh and push each other around, watched as one unlucky teen's notebook fell into a puddle. One girl carried a camera as big as she was, another boy was lugging an instrument case to-and-fro.

In particular one group caught Hattie's eye—they were congregated together, not talking, walking slowly between the buildings. It was like in a movie, in the opening scene when you can clearly pinpoint the main character because they are better lit or more in focus or just more vibrant than all the faceless characters around them. These teens were _beautiful, _and well dressed, but pale like corpses. Her eyes were flickering between them, three girls and three boys, impossibly beautiful, when one of them glanced up.

He seemed to be staring directly at her through the half-open blinds, but that was impossible. Hattie couldn't see his eyes from here, but his hair glinted a coppery brunette—she'd never seen anything like it, except for on the small girl next to him. Her breath was nearly knocked out of her system as said girl glanced up as well.

Luckily, Hattie was spared from the beautiful girl's gaze as Ms. Cope snapped her to attention.

"Heather? What do you think about this?"

Hattie's head jerked up and she sat straighter, blinking. Great, she'd been caught lost in her own little world. "I'm sorry, Ms. Cope—I got distracted."

The heavy-set woman nodded understandingly. "I know, we've been here a long time. We were discussing placing you in the correct history class for your grade level. You have enough history credits from your previous school that it would be a shame to set you back, and if you find yourself struggling we can provide tutors."

Relief settled in Hattie's veins. "Yes, that sounds amazing." History had been her least favorite subject—both in muggle school _and _magical. Not having to repeat extra history courses was news that could easily make her day.

"Perfect," Ms. Cope said approvingly. "We're just waiting on the math and science scores, and then our core subjects are covered. Now then, onto electives. Physical education is required for every class, but you still have an empty slot to fill. Colleges recommend two years of a foreign language, but it seems you have a satisfactory Latin credit—impressive. We don't offer that here, but would you like to take Spanish?"

Hattie shook her head, brushing her hair out of her face. "It'd probably be more useful than a dead language, but I think I'll skip that."

She glanced out the window hesitantly as Ms. Cope spoke more about the other electives—which, depending upon the hour block she had available, may or may not be accepting students.

A secretary came in at some point with Hattie's scores, which were as she had expected (high for science, average for math). She was placed in Biology and Algebra II, which made her scowl a little, but she could get on with it.

Thus, her choice of electives was narrowed: art, choir, or home economics. Everything else was full.

Hattie scowled harder, trying to figure out which she'd enjoy more. Art could be fun, but she wasn't that great at it—singing was out of the question, she had the tone of a cat who'd been tossed in water. And she'd ace home economics, it was something she'd been practicing since a child.

"Hattie's really good at homemaking," Charlie commented, the first he'd spoken in a while. He seemed keen to let Hattie make her own decisions, and he rolled with it in the background. "Cooking, cleaning, gardening—she's a pro."

Ms. Cope hemmed a little. "Well the objective for electives is learning and becoming better at a skill—Heather, if you don't feel home economics has anything left to offer you, perhaps you should choose one of the others."

Hattie's resolve wavered. She was going to pick home economics for the easy, assured A, but now she felt that Ms. Cope was on to her. Art it was, then.

She crossed her fingers she'd made the right choice.

—x—

The next errand was driving lessons, which Charlie insisted on. It was a few days later, but Hattie hadn't been able to get out of the house due to chronic rain and lack of transportation. With Charlie working so much, Hattie would need to figure out how to get back and forth to school most days.

Normally she would just walk, but given it rained the majority of the time in Forks, Charlie didn't feel that was an appropriate course of action. She also suspected he was feeling protective of her due to her appearance.

He found Hattie an instructor in town willing to do extended lessons, who happened to owe Charlie a favor. (Apparently, being the Chief of Police has some perks.) The man, Mr. Newton, offered Hattie driving lessons at 75% off.

Now, Hattie wasn't broke by any means—her parents, Lily and James Potter, had been pretty well off before their death. They'd left her a large account she could access anytime she wanted to and an even larger family account she'd inherit at twenty-one, plus whatever was left in their Gringotts accounts. As a kid, Professor had tutored her on accounting and monetary assets and even business etiquette, even though her family's business revenue was at a stand-still due to the war.

She guessed Professor had big dreams to see the end of the war before Hattie reached adulthood.

But Charlie, even knowing that Hattie had money, refused to hear of her paying for it. "It's a necessity," he said, gruff and a bit embarrassed. "I'm your guardian, and I wouldn't make my own kids pay for their necessities, so I'm not gonna make you."

Hattie couldn't argue with that, and didn't really want to—it made her too warm inside. So, she put away her wallet and let Charlie pay for the classes.

Her instructor, Mr. Newton, was nice enough. Blond hair, blue eyes, chipper—he owned a sporting goods store outside of town. While she drove, at first through parking lots, then back roads, and eventually on the highway, they chatted about the hiking trails in the area. Mr. Newton knew all the best ones, he claimed, and even advised her to stop by his store before going on her first trip.

"My son, Mike—he's about your age—he'd be willing to take you out if you wanted. You can borrow some gear from the store, too, if you need."

Hattie drove his minivan during these lessons, and they drove for hours. On and off the highway, in circles, practicing left turns and parallel parking. Driving was terrifying for her. Though she'd never done it back in England, driving in what would be the oncoming lane was horrifying.

But, slowly, she got better. Even the icy weather couldn't slow her down.

"And, really, you know—learning to drive in the snow is the best. That's how I taught my kids. You learn to drive in bad weather, you can drive in any weather," Mr. Newton was jabbering. Hattie thought that he'd become rather fond of her over the days they spent trapped together.

In the meantime, as Hattie got more confidence driving, she and Charlie began looking at cars. This was an exciting prospect that Hattie hadn't even considered. She test-drove fancy cars, raggedy cars, rusty cars, shiny cars—she test drove one whose seatbelts were mangled, one with no airbags. Charlie tried to convince her to just buy his buddy Billy's old truck, but it had been new in the 50s or 60s and she was, admittedly, being picky.

—x—

That first weekend, Charlie invited her fishing. He had been packing his gear when he suddenly stopped and looked at her, like he was seeing her for the first time.

"You wouldn't wanna come with us, would you?" he asked, a bit awkwardly. "You haven't met the boys yet. Won't be too interesting, but Billy's gotta son your age, so at least you'd have company."

Hattie stopped where she'd been packing his lunch (a chore she delegated to herself when she found out he ate exclusively at diners or fast food joints), looking at him curiously.

Charlie fished with "the boys" (aka Harry Clearwater and Billy Black) every weekend, from what she gathered. Hattie had never been fishing, and though she was pretty sure she wouldn't enjoy the experience, she was interested anyways. Even if she wasn't, Charlie was reaching out to her, a fact that warmed her a little from the inside out.

The warmth didn't last long once she found herself on the ocean in the middle of winter.

Hattie shivered as she watched the men load Billy up onto the boat. Even wheelchair-bound, he was a tall, imposing man, with more hair than most women. He wore it pulled back at the nape of his neck, the tail sticking out under his winter cap. He radiated with a wild sort of energy that made Hattie simultaneously nervous and excitably restless.

When they met, Billy looked her up and down and asked Charlie if he fed her.

He didn't smile at her (he didn't really seem the type), and there was a glint in his eyes that somehow hinted he knew all her secrets. It made her heartbeat quicken. Though the situations were completely different, she remembered the bronze-haired boy from the school, looking up and meeting her gaze from across the parking lot.

Curious.

Harry, on the other hand, was a riot—and he didn't have such an off-putting aura about him. His was calmer, almost mellow, but she could that there was a wild streak within him. He was a little older than Charlie and Billy and the spark in his eyes ousted him as a bit of a prankster. He didn't pay Hattie much attention except to nudge Billy's son, Jacob, and tell him "She's quite the looker, son."

Charlie had chased him around with Billy (in his wheelchair) at that proclamation, nearly knocking him off the dock.

And then there was Jacob.

Jacob turned out to be a handsome, well-built teenager, all sweet smiles and chin dimples. His hair was longer like Billy's, but blowing free in the wind. His muscles were well-defined for a kid his age, and she blushed when he grinned a toothy, very white grin at her. He was nearing seventeen, like Hattie, but he was tall, surpassing already Charlie's five foot eleven inches. This made her look like a dwarf compared to him, of course.

He had an impish, mischievous nature about him—and he, too, exuded a wild, restless sort of energy. He messed about with the men and really didn't seem that interested in fishing, which made Hattie wonder why he came.

After Charlie and Harry had gotten Billy settled aboard, they loaded the fishing gear up. Jacob boarded the boat, looking as if he'd done it a million times before (knowing Billy and Charlie, he probably had), then offered Hattie a hand up.

The duo sat together in the back of the boat, watching the older men horse around like children. Jacob seemed extra diligent about watching his dad, something Hattie could admire. He gave indulgent grins when his dad barked out huge, whooping laughs as they sped out to sea.

They didn't go too far—the waves were rough, canting their boat back and forth—but when they cut the engine off, the shore was miles behind them. The men wasted little time casting their lines out, their voices dropping low and all shenanigans quieting as quickly as they'd started.

Hattie settled in with the intention of reading the book she'd brought with her, trying to tune out the rocking of the boat. It didn't quite make her _nauseous, _she'd had worse, but it wasn't entirely pleasant either. However, before she could open her novel, Charlie pulled her up.

"Thought you were fishing?" he chuckled. Hattie internally groaned, and Jacob, who had been lounging backward like the rocking boat was his personal soother, perked up.

"I don't know, I've never fished before," she dallied, not quite looking at Charlie.

"That's called 'learning', honey," Harry called from near the bow.

Thus, as Charlie set his pole up in a special hook, Hattie no longer had an out. He fished out a second pole for her, this one obviously meant for someone smaller than she was, and began showing her the ropes.

(_All puns intended_, she thought dryly.)

She didn't really get the hang of it—especially not with gloves on, the wind burning her face. Casting was easy enough, but reeling not so much. Her gloves were too slippery. The one bite she got, she couldn't reel in, and Charlie was so excited he nearly went overboard trying to help her.

They ended up getting it, a huge fish in her opinion, but Hattie was too squeamish to unhook it and made Charlie do it. Jacob was laughing quietly at her, but the men were all pretty impressed and even clicked a picture of her with it. (Charlie was also in the picture, because Hattie refused to hold the fish.)

After that, she left the fishing to the boys and curled up to try and stay out of the cold air. If only she could cast a warming charm…

"Good first catch," a voice near her ear murmured. Hattie jumped at the electric feeling that coursed through her body when Jacob's breath ghosted over her cheek. "But I take it fishing's not for you?"

She snorted. "Yeah, I don't even know if I'll be able to cook that fish."

Jacob was still lounging, seeming to enjoy the ride more than the activity. When she spoke, though, his face was canted towards hers, lips quirked. His eyes seemed to dart over her face and lips, like he hadn't seen anything quite like her before.

It set something afire in her belly, and she looked away from him, cheeks pink—and she was totally blaming it on the wind.

"What?" she asked him, maybe a bit sharper than intended.

"I like your accent," he told her. She turned her head back toward him again.

"I like yours," Hattie retaliated. He didn't have the heavy, slow accent that Billy or Harry did, but she could detect hints of it in his voice still—the way he rounded his words was different from other Americans. She knew it was the tribe's influence.

Jacob's grin lit up his face again, and Hattie was again struck by just how _white _his teeth were. It made her feel self-conscious.

"I don't have an accent," he protested. "But you're like Mary Poppins."

Hattie gave him a dry look. "I'm sorry I'm a little bit posh, perhaps a few too many tea parties as a child."

Jacob's uproarious laughter caused Harry to chuck something at him, whilst the other men shushed him for "scaring the fish".

By the afternoon, even the men had grown louder. The fish just weren't biting, it seemed. They chatted about their kids. Harry's daughter had gone through a nasty breakup and was still moping about. Billy insisted that it was better than his daughters (one of whom had run off to university eight hours away, the other of which was married and living in Hawaii—they were barely two years older than Hattie).

"I don't think Bella's ever had a boyfriend," Charlie quipped. "Thank god for small mercies, eh boys?"

"Got two girls to worry 'bout now, Charlie," Harry roared, looking at Hattie and Jacob curled up in the stern. Nobody else seemed to notice them, though, and Charlie groused about how Hattie was a good girl and he didn't have to worry about anything like that from her.

Then, just like that, the conversation came around to her. Harry insisted she meet his kids—which Hattie wasn't necessarily opposed to. She was just a little shy, and not naturally gifted at conversing with others her own age. She was much better smoothing down Charlie's lapels and making sure his trousers were ironed than she was making small talk with teenagers.

Conditioning, she wondered, or nature?

Nevertheless, Jacob had proven to be a happy surprise—they spent nearly the entire fishing trip in the stern, sharing Hattie's novel, while the men swore about their bad luck. When the wind nipped their cheeks one too many times, they hunkered down on the ground, using the sides of the boat as cover.

Privately, Hattie thought the fishing trip was more an excuse to get out of the house and crack open a cold one than it was to catch fish. The weather was too poor to have expected much, after all.

As the engine hummed to life, cutting the water, Hattie smiled. It wasn't necessarily an experience she'd want to relive, but she was glad she'd done it—even if she wasn't looking forward to cooking the fish she'd caught.

After they got back to the shore and docked, Jacob and Hattie watched as the men heaved Billy out of the boat. He was tall, and clearly heavy—with one arm wrapped around either man's neck, he looked regal, like a king on his throne. Harry grunted and joked that maybe he needed to lay off the fried fish.

As they walked back to Billy's house once Harry had taken off, Charlie wrapped his arm around Hattie and smiled down at her.

"Thanks for coming out with me today, kiddo," he murmured. Jacob and Billy were arguing loudly in front of them about the best way to prepare their catch. "Bella 'n Beau used to kick up the biggest fuss when I made 'em come."

Hattie burrowed into Charlie's side, feeling warm even with the biting wind.

—x—

Ah, scratch that. Billy ushered her inside once they arrived at the small red house, calling out, "Jacob! Get her warmed up, son!" as he wheeled himself up the ramp. Charlie followed him up, watching her amusedly as she shivered.

Jacob helped her inside, one hand hovering behind the small of her back. "Chilly?" he asked cheerfully, already stripping himself of his layers. The inside of the house was toasty already, but he cranked up the heat. She followed him around like a puppy as he prepared a fire, pulling her gloves and coat off as she went.

Soon she found herself under a blanket, snuggled into the couch. Jacob plopped down next to her, offering her the TV remote, but she didn't want to remove her hands from under the blankets. He flipped through the channels idly as they listened to Billy coach Charlie on how to prepare the fish for dinner.

The TV was one of those old tube-style ones and the reception wasn't the best, but eventually Jacob found a movie for them to watch. One minute they were laughing at something one of the cheesy actors said, the next she was being jostled from her position on the couch, still mostly asleep.

"Want me to take her to the car, Charlie?" a voice was murmuring.

"She looks awful peaceful doesn't she," Charlie's familiar voice hemmed. "I dunno Jake, I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Her blankets were moved aside and there were hands on her, but she couldn't be bothered to rouse herself further. Someone lifted her, cradling her like a baby, and then she was being carried.

"It's no problem, Charlie. Really! She's light as a feather."

—x—

She dreamed that night of a bronze-haired pair, a boy and a girl. They were in the forest behind her house, light filtering down upon them, and she was standing further away, watching. At once, both of their heads snapped up, eerily in sync. They were looking behind her, and she turned, but there was nothing. When she turned back, the bronze twins were gone, replaced by Jacob.

Hattie reached out for him, but the further she reached the further he was, and then the image rippled as if she'd just broken the surface of a still pond. The image change to her reflection, but she looked lifeless, harried. Her under-eyes were dark, like bruises, and her cheeks sallow—she looked like a corpse. Angry at the reminder of how she used to live, she lashed out at the image and it changed again.

There she was—no…there _he _was. Not much taller than she was now, with short, wild black hair and green eyes. Glasses perched on the edge of his nose, and he held himself up confidently—how she walked now, knowing she was strong, knowing all that she had overcome. But his shoulders were tense, and his eyes pained, like everything from his past had scarred him.

It was her, but it wasn't.

He was wearing wizard's robes, which had fallen out of style a decade ago, and a gold and red tie with a House Gryffindor sigil on it—but Hogwarts had been overrun in the 80s by a Dark Wizard. Ever since then any school that got too big was attacked, too.

Hattie angrily splashed the image away, but it didn't disappear this time. The boy's features rippled and changed into hers, hair growing slowly, glasses fading away. The forest's unnerving silence gave way to a soft whispering and it was only when her reflection smirked that Hattie realized the trees were saying her name.

"Heather Henrietta," they whispered. "Heather Henrietta."

—x—

She woke in her bed, early morning light shining through her window's open curtains. Her heart was pounding. Her dream left her feeling panicky and anxious, and she couldn't get the image of her sallow, corpse-like face out of her mind. It's how she'd always felt living with the Dursleys—like a dead girl walking. Like one day she wouldn't perform her functions well enough and Petunia would stop pretending to protect her.

Like one wrong move was all it took for her life to be forfeit.


	3. Chapter 3

**03.**

_For once in my life, I was here and nowhere else. —Maggie Stiefvater_

* * *

After her fishing trip, the days were a little nicer. Cold, as it was mid-December by this point, but the rain had ceased for the most part, leaving the roads dry. The nice conditions improved her confidence and within the week, Hattie had acquired her license.

Mr. Newton was possibly more proud of her than Charlie was, and when he found out she'd passed her test he somehow acquired a car for her. Apparently, he put out feelers "through the grapevine," he'd said, and found one of his old hiking buddies was selling his hatchback to upgrade to a Jeep.

Small town life sure was something.

Coincidentally, Hattie _loved _the car. It was small and zippy, painted a dark, glittery midnight blue—in really good condition, though there were a few rust spots. After Charlie had Billy and Jacob come out and inspect it, and after a very thorough test-drive, he allowed Hattie to purchase it.

She had never felt more possessive of any material object before—the first thing she did when the title was signed and money exchanged was take it to a car wash. Then she vacuumed it, bought a new air freshener, and drove to a nearby music store to buy her first CD.

The car was freedom.

Even though she had nowhere to go and nobody to meet, Hattie was exhilarated.

-x-

Charlie seemed more at ease leaving her now that she had four wheels to get her to and fro. He still told her to be careful every morning as he left, ruffling her hair, but he no longer hesitated as if he were debating staying. The only problem was that now that she had a car, Hattie felt more anxious and lonely than ever before—because now she had a way to see people, she just had no people to see.

One morning while Charlie was out, she pulled out her magical items. They were all stored in a shoebox-sized trunk under the bed in her loft. Hattie and Professor had gone to great lengths to ensure it was as inconspicuous as it could be, charming the trunk to have notice-me-nots and muggle repellants. Hattie, unbeknownst to Professor, had even keyed it to her own magical signature.

As she opened it, she muttered a quiet _finite _to eliminate the shrinking charm, and the trunk grew to its normal size. It was still bottomless, though there wasn't quite enough inside to necessitate it. Copies of Professor's old schoolbooks (hard to come by now), all her mother's old school things (found in the Dursleys' attic, also where she got the trunk), grimoires upon grimoires of all the things she'd learned in her eleven years under Professor's tutelage. She had cauldrons, and stirring rods, and all sorts of magical artifacts.

There was even an honest to goodness _wand. _Those were even harder to come by than the schoolbooks—all learning materials were prohibited by the Dark Wizard's regime, from what she understood, unless inside one of his authorized schools. He had burned bookstores, stormed ancient manors, destroyed wand shops. He'd done so much damage it was hard to swallow that he'd only been at it for a short time.

Why—as short ago as when Professor was a child. His associates had told her stories, fondly and a little anxiously, as if simple words could get them killed. Stories of Hogwarts in its golden age—when witches and wizards had begun their education at eleven, with wands high at the ready. A talking hat would decide which House they would belong to.

(Professor was in House Slytherin, but Hattie's parents were both House Gryffindor. There were other houses too, one of the associates had been House Ravenclaw and had told stories of his House Hufflepuff friends.)

But Hattie had never had a wand before. Even holding this one, her mother's, sparked no magic—it was not suited to her, or perhaps she was not suited to it.

"It's why I found you so early," Professor had stated sourly. "I would've found you sooner if that old bat hadn't hidden you away…"

Children are naturally inclined to operate without a wand, and Professor had wanted to teach her how before she was too old and handicapped to learn properly.

"Children are like sponges," he'd added. "Daft sponges, snotty sponges, but sponges all the same."

Hattie had met a few magical children growing up—in secret of course. It's where she got the nickname "Hattie" from, because Severus said using her real name was too dangerous. She had friends in that world still, even if it was too dangerous to contact them with any sense of regularity.

One family, a redheaded group of wizards with far too many children, stood out in her mind. They didn't have a Professor (not everyone was as lucky as she was), taught instead by their parents, who taught them magic via farming. They were very poor, even though the oldest son had taken a part-time job in the muggle world to help supplement their family. He was called Bill, and he taught her his hobby, curse-breaking. All the children went to muggle school as well, because if there was one thing all the wizards she'd met agreed on, it was that there was no future in the wizarding world.

They had neighbors nearby with a little girl a year younger than Hattie, who was quite odd but fun to be around—Luna. Up the way was a boy a few years older than them, Cedric. When Hattie was fourteen she received word that he was slaughtered by Death Eaters and for months Hattie worried that they'd kill the others in the village too.

There were others she'd met, of course: a boy called Neville, whose parents wandered his home broken and mindlessly; a pair of Indian twins called Padma and Parvati whose father spoke harshly in Hindi to their mother the entire time Professor and Hattie were at their home; a pink-cheeked girl named Hannah who was sweet and shy. Hannah's aunt used to run the wizard's court system and had narrowly escaped with her life when the Dark Regime took over.

These people, and more, were what Professor and Hattie referred to as their 'network', a group of allies, friends, who were more like Hattie's family. They'd raised her, in every way they could whilst in hiding. They taught her everything she knew about kindness and love and pain. After all, they were all enemies of the regime.

Most interesting to Hattie, however, was when Professor took her to a very muggle neighborhood and introduced her to Hermione Granger. Hermione had a Professor, a woman called McGonagall who was old and stern with shaking hands. When McGonagall met Hattie she cried and had to leave the room. Hermione hadn't said much to Hattie that first time, but that wasn't what made her interesting—Hermione was muggleborn, which meant both of her parents were muggles.

McGonagall had a little book in her bag that she called the Heart of Hogwarts. They'd all looked at it together on the Granger's dining room table—it was filled with names upon names upon names. This, McGonagall said, was what would save their world in the end: the Dark Regime had Hogwarts, but McGonagall had its heart—all the students that ever had been and ever would be, all in a neat little book.

Hattie had seen her surname written there, but before she could point it out, Professor had jerked her away. This was when she was scolded and told she must never, ever tell a wizard her real name.

She never asked why. She wondered sometimes, but Professor had told her there were things that she could not know, for her own safety—and she trusted him irrevocably.

—x—

Amongst all her things was her NEWT certificate—overseen, signed, and notarized by a tiny old witch. Professor assured Hattie that she had once been a part of the Wizarding Examinations Authority. This was necessary so that Hattie could have an official Mastery in the future.

The NEWTs had been notarized of course, but could not be filed at what used to be the Ministry of Magic—so Hattie and Severus each had a copy for safekeeping. With proof of her certifications, she could become an apprentice and obtain her Mastery. That was, if there ever was a wizard capable and willing to risk it.

Wizarding America had not been quite as affected by the Dark Regime as Wizarding Britain. In fact, many had fled here when the Dark Regime began. Now, unless you used muggle means, it was near impossible to enter or exit Britain without detection.

It was also near impossible for her to contact Professor or any of her friends.

Hattie had a direct line of connection to Professor—a two-way mirror which would never be able to be tampered with due to the nature of its magic. The only way to "tamper" with it would be to break the connection by shattering one mirror.

She was not to use the mirror without ascertaining Professor's current well-being and whereabouts. This was harder. They had several backup communications, but none were as foolproof. She could send a message via her Patronus, but someone could follow it back to her. They had charmed a gold Galleon (an old wizarding currency) to be used for code, but there was only so much you could say with code. Her preferred method of communication, besides the mirror, was to write a letter and banish it to him.

This took a lot of magic—banishing was usually used within the same building. Over a distance, it could get tricky. She had a lot of practice, though this would be her first time doing it since she got to the United States.

Quickly she took out some parchment, enchanted so only he or she could read it, and began her letter.

—x—

_Professor,_

_ I hope this letter finds you well. I would not be remiss to hear your voice, however, so please help me schedule a time for us to speak. _

_ I'm settling in well. I do enjoy my uncle's company and though I miss certain charms of Britain I find I'm much more carefree here, and I do not yet want to return. I've not gone looking for wizarding settlements, having not had the chance, however if you have any starting points I would appreciate them. _

_ I start muggle school in the new year. My uncle has two children who will be joining me shortly afterward, and though I'm apprehensive of their company I cannot help but find myself intrigued by this opportunity I've been presented. I've even acquired a driver's license! Isn't that absurd? _

_ I've met a few members of the local tribe and it seems a running theme that they have some sort of … _aura, _for lack of better term—wild and reckless. It is both entirely unlike a wizard's magic, and at once very much the same. I will investigate more when I have the chance. _

_ Please send me news on our acquaintances—and of course yourself. _

_Merry part,_

_Hattie_

—x—

As the weather persisted on being clear and dry, Hattie ventured finally into the forest behind their home. The path she had seen from her window was narrow and spindling, but well-worn in most places, and she didn't fear she'd lose herself. The forest was like nothing she'd seen before: the sunlight filtering through the trees (which provided complete cover over the top, blocking out the sky) caused the entire area to take on a grey-blue hue. Not much grass grew here, but moss and dirt certainly did, and ferns. Fallen trees, old and new, littered the path.

One tree had fallen across the path, and Hattie stopped before it, feeling like an ant who'd lost its scent trail. Logically she knew she could climb over the tree and continue on—she could even see the path in the distance—but something was stopping her.

With images of bronze twins and boys in robes, Hattie purposefully turned and marched back to the last fork she'd seen.

—x—

December progressed quickly, and though Professor didn't write her back, she sent him a Christmas present. She'd never had a true Christmas before. Professor usually took her to his home and they had dinner together, but it wasn't the affair most children are used to.

Thus, she thought nothing of the holiday until Charlie brought home a tree. A legitimate, real Christmas tree (if a bit on the runty side).

The weather wasn't very Christmassy, she had yet to see any snow this year, but having the tree in the corner of their living room suddenly made the holiday real for her. Hattie had a small panic attack leaning over the kitchen counter, wondering what would be expected of her—would she stay out of the way, did she need to buy Charlie a gift? Dear god, was he going to buy her a gift? Did they need dinner? Oh no, Charlie can't cook—Hattie would have to. How does one cook a turkey? Do Americans have different food for Christmas?

She was in the middle of said panic attack when Charlie came in from the garage and dropped a large box of decorations in front of her, creating a huge thud on the counter. She jerked out of her panic attack, finally taking a gulp of air after hyperventilating. Charlie was looking at her with concern.

"Hattie, hey, are you okay?" he asked, his hand on her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"I'm…" Hattie began, gulping down another gasp of air. As she exhaled, her body went into a sort of numb relaxation. "Yeah, Uncle Charlie, I'm okay."

He didn't look convinced. "What was all that about?"

She didn't know how to answer him— 'oh, you know, casually decided not to breathe' didn't seem like a satisfactory response, after all. She stumbled over her thoughts in an attempt to not sound ungrateful, greedy, selfish, all of the above.

In the end she settled on, "I got too caught up in my thoughts, but I'm okay now."

Charlie gave her a searching look but let it go, opening the box. "I thought we could decorate the tree. Usually don't bother, ya know, we go to Billy's for dinner and there's no-one but me here to care about decorations, but…with you here and all, figured you might…want to?"

Hattie's eyes widened as she looked at her uncle's bashful face. He had cut down a tree and gone through all this trouble for her, some random kid he didn't know until two weeks ago? Maybe fate was finally paying her back for all the trouble she'd gone through as a kid.

"Of course," she whispered. "Thank you, Uncle Charlie. You didn't have to…"

"Ah, don't worry about it. Same I'd do for my kids, ya know."

They ended up watching some cheesy Christmas movie on the TV while they decorated the tree. Charlie didn't have much in the way of decorations—a lot of baubles were broken, from years stored in the shed. Hattie had the realization that it had been probably sixteen years or so since he'd shared a Christmas with his own family.

How could this sweet, caring man have been so hurt by his own children? Hattie was trying so hard not to form opinions on her cousins before meeting them, but it really rubbed her the wrong way that they had this amazing parent here waiting to dote on them and they pushed it aside—and for what?

There was a lot of cute, personal decorations that were obviously well-cared for: "Beaufort's First Christmas" and "Isabella's First Christmas", a snowman family that had names engraved on it: "Renee" and "Charlie" and "Beau" and "Bella". There were some handmade ones that were obviously the twins' first handprints. She took extra care when hanging these special ornaments, and gave them the prized positions at the front of the tree where anyone who cared could see them.

Finally, Charlie pulled the star out. This was a coveted moment, one she'd never been allowed—of course, she'd never been allowed to decorate the tree, either, but she had only ever wished to put the star on. Every year she watched Dudley be lifted and cooed over as he placed the star.

_Control yourself, _she thought firmly. _You're 16, not 6. _

That was a problem she had now that she's been with Charlie. She'd spent so long being a grown-up that now that someone wanted to baby her, she was soaking it in.

But still, Charlie posed her beside the tree with the star and clicked a picture and she couldn't help the cheek-splitting grin that lit her face as she placed it atop the fully decorated tree.

He fished something out of his pocket and looked a little awkward as he held it out to her. She still was grinning from finishing up the tree, packing up the box—so seeing the tiny package wrapped in tissue paper was kind of bizarre to her.

"What's this?" she asked, hesitatingly.

Charlie scratched the back of his neck. "Ah, you know. I just figured with all the family stuff on the tree, we might be able to make you feel a little at home. Take it."

She took it gently from his hands. From the weight of it, she could only guess what it was—eyes searching his, she slowly unwrapped it. Hattie was horrified to find tears clouding her vision.

"It's just I know you didn't have any time with your parents," Charlie rushed. "They didn't get to do any of this with you. And knowin' Tuney, she and Lily…well they weren't close, and I can't imagine what your childhood was like. Awh, Hattie, don't cry honey—I'm sorry if I overstepped—"

She cut him off by throwing herself at him, the ornament clutched in her hand. It was four reindeer, and engraved on each one was a name:

Charlie, Beau, Bella, and Hattie.

It was such a ridiculous thing to cry over, but it was all she'd ever wanted in her whole life: to be accepted as a part of a real family. The Dursleys had never tried—Vernon and Dudley hated her and would rather lick the grime off their boots than say a single kind word about her. Petunia greatly disliked her and saw her as a tool to gain social standing—a pretty doll.

Even Severus, for all that he'd done for her, had never pretended she was his family. She could still remember being seven and having grown so fond of him, he taught her, he fed her, he gave her sweets when she was good and books and even, once, she'd gotten a dolly. She'd slipped up in her mind. Called him "daddy."

She knew he wasn't her dad. But, in her mind, he'd done the bare minimum a dad needed to do. She'd mistaken his kindness for love and he had shouted at her—it was the angriest she'd ever seen him. Tiny Hattie went home that night crying, wondering why nobody wanted her. In the years following, she never made the error of mistaking fondness for love.

But Charlie…

She'd been here for little more than two weeks, and he'd done more for her—cared more for her—than anyone in her entire life.

As a shocked Charlie folded his arms around her shaking shoulders, she praised whatever fate had sent her to Forks.

—x—

"Billy, I don't know how to handle her," Charlie told his longest friend quietly. Jacob was asleep in the house and—gods did he like that boy, but this was a private conversation. "She's affection starved. When she first got here I hugged her and she stiffened up like nobody had ever done it before. You look at her with fondness and she melts under your gaze. I'm just… worried about her."

He and Billy were sat on the porch of his little red house, each of them holding a can of beer. Billy's house was cheerfully decorated, Christmas lights twinkling on the porch overhang, tree proudly displayed in the window. He took a long drag from his can, sighing.

Billy appeared deep in thought, tightening and loosening his hand around the can of beer to make the aluminum crinkle and pop. Charlie watched the movement, lost in his own dark thoughts.

He had half the mind to just call up Tuney and ask her what the girl's problems were, but if _Tuney _was the girl's problems, that wouldn't do him any good.

Gods he loved his little sisters but Tuney had always been a bit theatrical. Charlie had been long gone when Lily got accepted into that special boarding school in Scotland—he'd gone in search of himself and found it here in Forks, of all places. But without Charlie, Tuney had relied on Lily for companionship, and the knowledge that some school thought Lily was better than Tuney had drained on her.

The sisters' relationship had never been the same. Lily tried, but Charlie couldn't blame her for getting angry at Tuney's irrational behavior.

Charlie hadn't talked to Tuney in years—probably since Dudley was born. He hadn't known Lily and James had died. He hadn't known Tuney had custody of Hattie. If there's one thing that moving across the ocean shows you, it's how hard it is to keep in touch with everyone back home. _Especially _when you're a young adult with barely any money to your name.

He'd always imagined that Petunia had matured as she grew up—stopped being the theatrical young girl and become the wise, motherly young woman. But if what he suspected was true _was _true, then he feared Hattie's mental health.

He wasn't Chief of Police for nothing. Sure, some things flew over his head, but he was much more perceptive than he led on. Sometimes the best thing you can do is let people underestimate you.

The first day he met her she'd stiffened when he hugged her, and when he was asking about her childhood she specifically left out anything to do with Petunia or Dudley or her uncle…what's his name…Victor? Charlie couldn't remember for the life of him. She waxed poetic about some professor of hers, but didn't seem to have any friends outside of him.

Then everything else—every tiny fond touch he gave her, every hair ruffle, half-hug, caring smile. Every "be careful" or "call me if you need anything". Every time he told her that he was treating her how he'd treat Bella or Beau.

Her pretty green eyes would widen, staring at him like he was a foreign entity, and then she'd melt under his gaze like she'd…

Well, like she'd never experience _caring _before.

Then—decorating the Christmas tree.

Now, Charlie had to admit, he had a hard time remembering the girl was sixteen. Hell, she'd be eighteen in a year and a half! She'd filled out a little bit since coming here, but she still just looked like a thirteen-year-old.

A child.

And yes, maybe he was prone to babying her a little bit. He wasn't normally the touchy feely type, but a needy child was different. And anyone looking at her could tell she needed for something.

So, he'd went and gotten her a Christmas tree. Then, after he set it up in the living room, he'd dug out his and Renee's old Christmas decorations—when he came in he'd found her in the middle of a full-on breakdown and all she'd tell him is she was "too caught up in her thoughts"? At first, he thought maybe realizing it was Christmastime was making her homesick, even though he'd had his doubts about Petunia's care of the girl before this.

Hattie had had way too much fun decorating the tree—the smile she had when he let her put the star on was at once heartwarming and heart_breaking._ He had debated not even giving her the ornament, wondering if it would be too much for her obviously fragile emotions at the moment.

He'd been right, but the crying had been happy tears.

What kind of a life could she have lived that a $10 Christmas ornament with her name engraved on it could cause her to bawl like that?

Billy's voice broke him out of his thoughts, his friend's slow, deep words washing over him. "What's done is done, Charlie. There's nothing to worry about now. Just love her, and all will be well in time."

Charlie jerked his head in a sad replica of a nod, wondering what he'd gotten himself into—going from a bachelor in a too-big house to the full-time father of three near-grown teenagers in the span of a month.


	4. Chapter 4

**04.**

"_It's so, so stupid what we do to ourselves because we're afraid. It's so stupid." _―_Sarah Dessen_

* * *

Hattie probably spent way too long getting dressed on Christmas morning. Even now she stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, debating if she was dressed appropriately.

Her wild black hair had been tamed into a pretty up-do with curls framing her face, just like Petunia had always taught her. (She guessed that something about those ostentatious tea parties had been useful.) She didn't really own anything Christmassy, but she _did _have an emerald green circle skirt, into which she'd tucked a white long-sleeved V-neck. It was sort of cold outside, so she was wearing thick white tights.

With frustration, Hattie noticed that her shirt was abnormally tight across her chest—what used to be form-fitting barely fit at all, due to the way she was filling out. Hattie debated changing again, but she'd already spent so much time and energy on it. Besides, when she put on her oversized cardigan, nobody would be able to tell.

"Don't worry, honey, you look beautiful," Charlie's voice called, from the bottom of the stairs. "If we don't hurry up, though, we're going to be late."

Hattie called an apology and ran to get her things. She threw on the cardigan haphazardly, stuffed her feet into the first pair of shoes she found, and hurriedly donned her coat and gloves. Then, almost forgetting, she stooped to scoop up her small pile of presents.

There, ready to go.

Wanting to make sure she was no longer keeping Charlie, Hattie zoomed by him and out the door. The car was already loaded—Charlie had bought Billy and Jake both small presents, as well as Harry Clearwater's kids, and had even had the forethought to bring out the dish Hattie prepared. She plopped her presents down in the back seat of his cruiser and was buckled into the passenger seat, shivering, by the time Charlie started the car.

"Alright," Charlie hummed, tapping a beat on the steering wheel as he pulled out. "Christmas dinner, here we come!"

Charlie sang Christmas tunes all the way to La Push, and Hattie joined in with the ones she knew for a little while. She couldn't help smiling and sighing happily to herself. This was a dream come true for her.

This morning she and Charlie had exchanged gifts together. Charlie had insisted, with a roguish grin, that Santa came down their non-existent chimney and brought the small stack of gifts, filling her stocking along the way. It was his way of downplaying the money spent, so she didn't protest too much, but made sure to thank him extra all the way through breakfast.

He had filled her stocking with sweets and some cute stocking stuffers, like a set of earbuds, a new toothbrush, lip balm, socks, nail polish. Small, thoughtful little gifts. On top of all of that—which was already more than she'd even imagined getting—he'd gotten Hattie her own cell phone. Charlie warned her that he knew nothing of technology and that it was a recommended model. This suited Hattie perfectly.

And then, as if that wasn't enough, he added a couple of pretty clothing items ("Sue Clearwater mighta helped a little with those…" he'd admitted sheepishly) and, her favorite—the photo albums.

He had given her two photo albums. The first was of her mother's childhood and young adolescent years. The second one was mostly empty, save for few pictures:

The first was Hattie with her first fish, Charlie standing in the background holding it. Her heart warmed, and she nearly cried when she saw it. Then there was a picture she hadn't even known was taken: herself, curled up in a blanket, asleep. Next to her was Jacob Black, also asleep, arm thrown around the back of the couch behind her. They both leaned to the right, though she wasn't quite leaning against him—both had their heads tilted at the same angle and their mouths open.

This must have been post-fishing trip, when she'd fallen asleep at Jacob's and somehow woken up in her own bed. (She still didn't want to think how that happened, though her foggy memories had her suspecting Jacobhad carried her to the car, but how had she gotten from the car to the bed?)

The third, and last, was Hattie with her giant grin, placing the star atop the tree.

"Figured we can get you a camera and start your photo album," Charlie grunted when she'd hugged him so hard it knocked the air out of his lungs. "Glad ya like it, kiddo."

Afterwards, Hattie's gift to him felt underwhelming—a new band for his beloved watch and new tackle set. He had seemed to like them, but she felt like they didn't live up to his amazing gift.

They'd then had breakfast together, which Hattie had made—French toast and scrambled eggs and sausages. She knew that the Dursleys often ate pigs in blankets, but apparently that wasn't a tradition here and personally—Hattie didn't love bacon the way most people did anyways.

When Charlie and Hattie arrived at the Clearwaters' house, Billy and Jacob were also just arriving. Charlie hopped out quickly to help Jacob get Billy up the stairs and into the house whilst Hattie hung back, gathering everything from the car and watching the trio.

Charlie had known Billy since before Hattie was born. As an outsider, even she could admire the level of familiarity the duo shared. And Charlie was obviously quite fond of Jacob, even when he pretended to push the boy down the stairs for dropping Billy's wheelchair on Charlie's foot.

Hattie continued up the stairs after the boys, hers and Charlie's gifts stacked atop the casserole dish. She'd made a cheesy potato casserole—not traditionally Christmassy, but that way, Hattie knew it wouldn't be a repeat dish at the dinner. As she came up the stairs, both Jacob and Charlie turned to help her carry her burden.

"Oh!" Charlie chuckled as their hands collided. Then he pulled the presents out of Hattie's hands and allowed Jacob to take the casserole. "Good man," he said gruffly, clapping Jacob on the shoulder.

Hattie smiled shyly at the both of them as Charlie headed in. Jacob was staring at her with huge eyes, as if he'd never seen her before. After a moment, he shook himself and offered her his arm.

"Let's head in, it's chilly."

So she let him guide her in, his arm around her back. There wasn't a ton of people—not that Hattie had expected there to be—so it wasn't too crowded in the Clearwaters' modest home.

There was, of course, Charlie and herself. Billy was settled at the table with Harry, who was for once not dressed in a plaid button down and fishing vest. In the kitchen was who Hattie assumed was Sue Clearwater and her daughter, Leah—a tall, lithe young woman with long dark hair and sad eyes. Jacob was glaring at a boy slightly younger than them—he must've been Seth, who was around fourteen, with a cheerful disposition. Seth was glancing between Jacob and Hattie, smirking.

"Come in, come in! You must be Hattie!" Sue called, breaking up the silent confrontation—Seth smirking, Jacob glaring, Hattie just feeling confused. "Oh, I told Charlie not to make you cook anything! Charlie you dog!"

Charlie was protesting at the table next to Harry. Hattie wasn't paying a ton of attention as Jacob helped her out of her coat, hanging it on the rack.

"You look beautiful, Hattie," Harry called. "Doesn't she look beautiful, Jake? Seth?"

Suddenly both boys seemed much more awkward—Seth was blushing and Jake was scratching the back of his neck, averting his eyes.

"She does," Seth agreed. "Jake thinks so too, he was staring!"

"Seth!" admonished Jake, who was blushing now too.

"It's true!" Seth and Jacob started squabbling as the men laughed. Hattie felt a little uncomfortable, pulling her cardigan tighter around her, and Leah must have taken notice to her discomfort.

"Knock it off, _some of us _are trying to enjoy ourselves!" she snapped. Sure enough, both boys went quiet. Leah glanced at her fleetingly, and Hattie tried to portray her appreciation through her eyes.

Dinner was nice—Hattie sat with Charlie, Billy, and Jacob and they ate and chatted quietly. It was not the formal affair that Hattie remember the Dursleys' Christmas dinner being. They didn't give thanks, there was no formal dinnerware, cloth napkins seemed entirely too posh for this situation. It was relaxed and friendly and pleasant, and dinner was _delicious. _

Hattie got compliments on her dish too, but Sue's dinner was definitely the main affair.

After dinner, Hattie insisted on helping clean up, even if Sue was trying to be nice by not letting her. The pair quickly packed away dinner, stacking up plates of food for people to take home because, as Sue put it, "I haven't got nearly enough room in my stomach nor my fridge for all of this!" Then they cleared the table and began the arduous task of washing dishes.

"You're a good girl, Hattie," Sue commented idly. "Leah's a good girl, too, but she could take some pointers from you."

Hattie blushed, keeping her head down. "I don't know. She seems great. A little sad, but great."

Sue hummed lightly, as if unsure whether she should discuss this or not. There was nothing but the sound of water splashing and the men messing around outside for a little while. Then she must have decided it was a safe topic, because she continued, "You're right, she is a little sad. She had a bad break-up recently, and it's been rough on her. Do you know what that's like?"

Hattie didn't. She'd never had a close friend, let alone a significant other, and relayed this quietly to Sue. Sue laughed a little. "Good girl, relationships are trouble. I hope you never get your heart broken as badly as Leah did."

Hattie sighed wistfully. It wasn't something she thought about frequently—oh, sure, she knew she had a pretty face. Her aunt had told her often enough, derisively, as if that was the worst sin Hattie had ever committed.

People may be taken by pretty faces, maybe even lust after them, but they certainly don't fall in love with them—it's everything else that counts. Hattie wasn't sure that it was worth falling in love with the girl behind her pretty face.

Someone bustled into the kitchen behind them—Leah, her hair pulled back into a bun. She edged Hattie out of the way and Sue waved her off, telling her to go play with the boys.

Wiping her hands on a towel, Hattie headed out the back, where the men were all bundled up and tossing around a ball. It was a little chilly just standing there, and as much as she'd like to join in, she wasn't wearing the proper clothes for it.

Athleticism was something she'd always prided herself on. Dancing, sports, yoga, swimming—any way she could move her body was a good way. Ever since coming to Forks, she hadn't had much chance to do so. The weather was almost always poor, and Hattie hadn't had the opportunity to find any classes.

In England, one of her favorite times was during the summer. Her schedule was always jam-packed: working around the house, going to tea parties with her aunt, muggle school, magical school. She had hardly any time to herself. During the summer, when muggle school let out, she always told her aunt that Professor was keeping her longer. Professor, however, was told that her _aunt_ was keeping her longer.

In this small period of time—usually an hour or two a day—nobody was looking for her. There were no demands to follow.

Hattie would join any class that was in the area. Often these were things like yoga or spin, meant for bored housewives, but once there was a ballet class. Ballet was something Hattie enjoyed immensely. It cost little concentration and effort for her to emulate the graceful, floating moves. Professor had once told her she was built like a 'seeker' (a position in an old wizard's broomstick game), which meant she was small and lithe and surprisingly quick—the natural disposition for a dancer.

Thinking about all of the fun activities she'd enjoyed in the past made her long for companionship. She hadn't realized how _lonely _she was, aching for extra human interaction…even if it came from an instructor berating her form.

Hattie resolved herself to finding some sort of group to join, and soon, before she went stir-crazy. It might already be happening. Yesterday she cleaned the oven three times in an hour because there was simply nothing else to do in the house. She had long since read all the novels she'd brought with her, and there was only so much magic she could practice.

Perhaps if she signed up for an activity she could even make some friends.

As if praising her for her mental resolution, the ball the men were playing with landed right in front of Hattie. She blinked at it, cocking her head. Almost without thought, she scooped it up and brought it back out to play.

Yes—she ripped her tights, and she definitely didn't look prim and proper with her skirt flying about, but Hattie had fun. Even if the game was only an overcomplicated version of keep-away, in which all the boys seemed determined that she was the one they were "keeping away" from.

At one point Charlie threw her over his shoulder, surprisingly not stumbling (even though he had no coordination at all) and ran away with her, threatening to toss her in the ocean.

It was the most fun she'd had in a long time.

After the game, as it was getting dark and everyone was getting ready to go home, Jacob pulled her aside. He seemed a little shy, but his eyes reflected the orange of the setting sun in an unearthly way and she couldn't stop staring.

"I made you something," he said quietly. In the background Billy and Charlie were saying noisy goodbyes.

Hattie blinked as Jacob handed her a small, crudely wrapped present. She began to unwrap it, smiling a little to herself—she had given him a copy of the novel they'd attempted to share during the fishing trip. But he had _made _her a gift, which thrilled her in a way she hadn't known possible.

"It's not much," Jacob hurried to tell her, as she pulled away the last of the wrapping paper. "I just thought…it might look nice on you."

It was a headband, woven out of leather strings. There were a couple of sparkly clay beads woven into it, and it was simply divine.

Immediately Hattie tied it into her hair, gasping. "Jacob, thank you! It's beautiful."

She darted forward and wrapped him in a hug, feeling overwhelmed with the amount of care people had been showing her. Jacob touched the headband and smiled softly, and before she knew it she was caught in his gaze again. His eyes were bottomless, reflecting the sun into pools of deep chocolatey brown.

It seemed like forever before they broke apart—just staring at one another. He seemed to be scrutinizing her face, eyebrows pulling together just the tiniest bit. Hattie wondered what he was thinking, what he saw in her eyes that had him so entranced.

He leaned slightly forward and that fire alit in her belly again, just like on the boat. They were so close together now, there was no missing what was happening. In every movie she'd ever glimpsed, this was how it started: whether it was pouring rain, or they were standing on a warm, sandy beach—this was how that very first kiss began.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and he came even closer, his breath ghosting across her lips. He smelled like pumpkin pie and she had never needed someone as much as she needed Jacob right now.

Then—

"Hattie, it's getting late!"

Hattie startled at Charlie's voice, pulling back from Jacob and blinking wildly. He was still in the same position, staring at her as if she held the world in her hands.

She couldn't pretend it was her imagination—he looked disappointed. _Hattie _felt a little disappointment, too.

"Coming, Uncle Charlie," she called, still looking at Jacob. As she turned, he moved forward, catching her arm.

"Hattie," he murmured. She turned her face back towards him. "Merry Christmas."

And so, so gently he kissed her cheek. She was frozen there for a quick moment as he loped away, towards where his dad was already rolling himself home. Then Charlie called her again and she, too, turned away.

On the ride home, Charlie was silent. Hattie wondered if it was because he had witnessed her near-kiss, and if he had, if he was angry about it. She touched her cheek and smiled a little bit. If he was angry, that was fine—but she wasn't.

"So, Jacob, huh?" Charlie finally said after a little while.

"Hm?" Hattie asked, tearing her gaze from the horizon. "Jacob?"

"He's a nice boy," her uncle said begrudgingly.

"He kissed my cheek," she blurted, touching it again. "That means he likes me, right?"

Charlie was silent for a moment, and then he laughed. "Oh, Hattie. Yes, I think he likes you."

—x—

That night, as she lay in bed replaying her almost-perfect Christmas, Hattie still found room in her heart to feel sad.

She missed Professor.

She spent most Christmases with him, donning her winter gear and walking to his home in the early hours of the morning. The Dursleys never missed her, and she privately thought Severus enjoyed the company on a day meant for family. Even if they weren't family in the traditional sense of the word, they might as well have been; each of them only had the other, and their allies.

So she would buy him a small present each year, something silly he would never buy himself. Knick-knacks, usually. And she'd try to impress him with potions she made up on the spot, often unusable (she wasn't a trained potioneer, after all, and there were hardly any books left on the art anyways). And he would gift her something, too: once, when she was little, it had been a dolly. But their tradition was to order Chinese takeaway and spend the day in the study reading for fun instead of learning.

They were birds of a feather in that, too.

With the silence she was receiving from Professor's end, Hattie was feeling a little bit empty. It was strange not having the traditions she held close to her, even though they weren't what most people would think of as being 'Christmassy'. They were hers, and that was what was important.

That night, she ended up stuffing her feet into her shoes and quietly making her way out into the loft. She pulled out her trunk from beneath her bed, carefully retrieving her cauldron and potions kit from inside. Her intention was to make a silly potion, but when she pulled out her cauldron a hollow _thunk _resonated from within. She jumped with the noise, peering over the edge with disdain.

Inside was a carefully wrapped gift, and a tiny missive atop it, which read _Merry Christmas, you daft girl._

—x—

The week following Christmas flew by faster than any week had the right to do. Most of it was spent preparing for Hattie's inevitable first day of school, which, of course, came around all too quickly. Her belly was a mess of nervous butterflies as she dressed, trying to scan her brain to remember what the other students had been wearing.

Somehow, she didn't think dressing like she was going to a tea party would help her fit in.

Instead she donned a pair of nice jeans and one of the tops Sue had helped Charlie pick out, throwing her cardigan over top and then her winter coat. Hattie tied her hair up with the headband Jacob made her and made sure her bag was packed.

Notebooks, pens, pencils, a calculator, anything she thought she might need. Even an umbrella. She had her wallet, her car keys…there was no reason for her to continue procrastinating.

No reason except nerves.

Finally, she strolled down the stairs. Charlie had gotten bored waiting for her and resorted to cereal for breakfast, so she followed suit. He attempted to make conversation, but she was too nervous, so he allowed her to brood in peace.

After what seemed like only a few moments, Charlie had to head out to work. He kissed her head as he left, wishing her a good first day.

"Be safe," he called from the door, where she could hear him jiggling around with his holster. "Call me if you need anything. _Anything, _Hattie."

She stood abruptly. Her _phone. _She'd known there was something she was forgetting!

After she grabbed it, Hattie rushed to her car. It was a relatively clear day, a blessing for which Hattie was not ungrateful—if only it were to be spent somewhere enjoyable. She sighed to herself as she pulled out of the driveway, pointed in the direction of Forks High School.

The parking lot was already half full by the time Hattie arrived, and she had to spend extra time in the main office. It seemed like it took forever to get her finished schedule and a horrid pink slip, which was to be signed by each of her teachers. By the time that was done, Hattie had to scour the parking lot for a space and found exactly _one_ next to a shiny silver Volvo.

Luckily her first class was nearby, so she followed a pair of young boys inside. They hung their coats on a rack inside the door and ventured further into the building. With only a slight hesitation, Hattie copied them, spending a moment fussing with her cardigan as a guise for steeling her nerves.

When she was sure she would be alright, Hattie searched out her English teacher, Mr. Mason.

"Ah, you must be Heather," he said cheerfully. "Welcome. Find a seat, anywhere will do! We're starting a new semester so you're right on time."

Hattie didn't have a chance to correct him. As soon as he was done signing her pink slip, Mr. Mason ushered her into the classroom.

It felt like everybody was staring at her, even though very obviously they weren't—there was just so many faces. Hattie hadn't been in a crowd this big in well over a month. Her gaze fell upon an open spot close to where she stood and she dove for it, relieved to be tucked out of the way.

Next to her was a tall, dark-haired boy with greasy hair and an acne problem. He sort of reminded Hattie of what Professor might've looked like as a child. Her lips quirked in amusement.

It was almost as soon as she sat down that he began chatting to her. He seemed friendly, but over-eager, like he had been waiting to get his claws into something new and juicy. It put Hattie off a little bit.

"You must be the new girl, Chief Swan's niece, right? Heather?" the boy chatted, angling his body toward hers. "I'm Eric."

She was unpacking a notebook and pen and nodded at him slowly. She didn't want to encourage him, but thus far he hadn't done anything wrong. Instead, she replied politely—but coolly. "Yes, I am. I'm Hattie. Nice to meet you."

"I love your accent!" Eric gushed, leaning just a little too close to her. His greasy hair shone in the light and Hattie resisted the urge to put space between them. "Where are you from?"

Hattie was distracted from answering when the door swung open and one last straggler came in. Even windswept she looked like a supermodel—the bronze-haired twin Hattie had seen in December. She'd nearly forgotten about them and the weird dream they'd starred in. Honestly, the reminder of the anxiety-inducing dream really _did not _help her nerves.

Still, Hattie couldn't help but stare at the newcomer. Her hair was long and loose, messy in a purposeful way. Though the girl was petite, she held herself tall and confidently. The only flaw Hattie could find was dark, bruise-like circles under her light eyes.

"Nice of you to join us, Edythe," Mr. Mason called as the girl entered. Hattie watched with interested eyes as she stalked to her desk.

As she passed, Hattie went rigid in her seat—Edythe gave off a controlling, indescribable aura. Like fury that had run deep since the beginning of time, like ancient hunger, like a hunter's coiled tension as they waited to pounce on their prey. Then, alongside or maybe coiled into it, was knowledge and strength and resolution. It prickled her skin.

Hattie got the feeling that Edythe was powerful.

As if sensing Hattie thinking about her, the bronze haired twin met Hattie's eyes. There was hostility in the honey-colored gaze, but also curiosity. Edythe stared at Hattie for longer than was necessary, a faint frown on her face. Hattie's heartbeat quickened with each second, wondering what was going through the other girl's mind.

Luckily the connection was broken when Mr. Mason began speaking, circulating some papers around the room. Still, Hattie couldn't help feeling uneasy when she thought of the piercing, topaz eyes.

"Now that all of us are present, I'm going to pass out this semester's syllabus…"

—x—

The rest of the day zoomed by pretty quickly, nowhere near as atrocious as Hattie had feared. Given it was the first day of a brand-new semester, she didn't have any work to catch up on. The only thing she had to do was integrate herself into the social setting, which was possibly more daunting than a stack of missed assignments.

After English was US History, with an unfortunately named Mrs. Mackerel, who Hattie had already decided was the devil. The woman was the only teacher who made Hattie stand before the class and introduce herself. Though embarrassed, face burning red, at least one good thing had come of it: this class knew she went by Hattie and not Heather.

In History she met a nice girl named Angela, who walked Hattie to her next class—art. Angela was sweet, and Hattie took an instant liking to the unassuming girl, who didn't ask any intrusive questions and demanded nothing from her. It was a breath of fresh air.

Art was followed by Algebra II (and we're not even going to get into that atrocity, which worked parts of Hattie's brain in ways they hadn't needed to be worked in a while). By the time Algebra was over, Hattie's stomach was protesting, hungry for food.

Angela caught her before she could leave, inviting Hattie to sit with her at lunch. With a small smile, Hattie agreed.

They walked together out into the cloudy parking lot, headed for the cafeteria. Angela's huge camera hung around her neck, swinging gently as they walked.

"I'm on the yearbook committee," Angela explained when she noticed Hattie looking. "It's an elective. It looks good on college applications, if you want to go to school for art."

Hattie recalled Ms. Cope talking about it in December. "Oh yeah, there weren't anymore spaces available. Do you like it?"

Angela shrugged. "I don't dislike it. I love photography, but the yearbook has pretty strict guidelines on what can and can't be in it. I wish I had more freedom."

"I get that," Hattie said. She adjusted the straps of her backpack, which were heavy with the new textbooks. Idly she wondered if anybody would notice her putting a featherweight charm on the bag.

(She decided not to risk it, instead making plans to put her excess books in her car after lunch.)

"What do you do for fun?" Angela asked. "You're in art class, are you an artist?"

Hattie surprised them both by letting out a loud, genuine laugh. "God no," she gasped. "I can't draw to save my life. It was just my only option, practically. No, I like to cook, and read, but my passion is athleticism."

Angela's nose wrinkled. "I'm not so good at sports. What do you play?"

They were entering the cafeteria now. They both had bagged lunches, so they headed toward the tables. Angela lead Hattie toward an empty one in the center, clearly having a specific table in mind. As they settled in, both pulling out their lunches, Hattie continued the conversation.

"I dance," Hattie said, shrugging. She unzipped her floral lunchbox, carefully pulling out her food. "I'm actually not that picky. I've done yoga, ballet, swimming. I like trying new sports. Football…er, soccer here, I guess—that's one of my favorites."

While she was talking, they were joined by more and more people. A trio of girls—one brunette, one blond, one platinum blond. Eric, and a baby-faced blond boy, also joined them. Lastly a small Asian boy plopped down next to Eric, nearly spilling his lunch.

"You like soccer?" the platinum blond asked, her voice nasally. It was clear she didn't quite believe Hattie—tiny, lithe Hattie—could actually play, but she was also trying to not be nasty.

Angela introduced them all, quietly: the nasally girl was Lauren Mallory, and with her were Jessica Stanley and McKayla Newton. Eric's friends were Mike Newton and Ben Cheney.

McKayla was deep in conversation with Lauren, but Hattie leaned toward Mike excitedly. Mr. Newton had done good by her, teaching her to drive during the weeks before Christmas and even locating a car for her.

"Your dad is really nice," she told him cheerfully. "He taught me how to drive and helped me find a car when I got here."

Mike seemed overly interested. "Oh? Did he, you know, talk about me?" He must've been annoyed by having to lean around Eric and Ben, because he quickly switched seats, plopping down on the bench facing Hattie.

Hattie shrugged. "Not really. He mentioned he had kids, but not much about them."

Mike looked pretty relieved at that, swinging himself around to continue eating his lunch—next to her now, instead of a couple seats down—and started chatting at her. He reminded her of a puppy dog.

Hattie was distracted, though, when she noticed Edythe and her group coming in.

They were even more beautiful close up. There was six of them, as Hattie had noticed back in December: three boys and three girls. They were all pale, pale as the moon—pale as corpses, with bruise-like circles under their eyes. What was chilling was that, though most of them couldn't possibly be related, they all had the same honey colored eyes.

The boys looked more like men than high school students. They could've been college students or even teachers. One was huge, all wide shoulders and heavy muscles like a body builder. His hair was dark and curly, and though his appearance was intimidating he had soft dimples on his cheeks.

With him was a woman whose looks put even Edythe to shame. Her long, curly blond hair was in a perfect up-do and her face had a sort of timeless, regal beauty. She would've been better suited to a runway, even with her thick curves, than a high school cafeteria.

The other girl was tiny, smaller even than Edythe, maybe around Hattie's height. It was hard to tell from the distance, but it was possible she was even smaller. She looked like she'd dropped right out of the 20s, with her inky black hair cut into a pixie bob and her elfin face.

Then there was the man next to her—tall, possibly taller than the body builder, muscled but in a different sort of way. Like he'd spent all his time outdoors, working the land. He had golden blond locks coiffed up into a stylish, albeit windswept, up-do. His face was pained, and the stiff set of his shoulders made Hattie think he was uncomfortable.

Then there was Edythe, of course, and her bronze-haired twin: the youngest-looking of the boys, the smallest. He looked small compared to the body builder and the blond, but Hattie guess he must be at least six-foot, if not more, with wiry muscles.

"Who're they?" Hattie asked Angela, not taking her eyes off them. There was just something about them…Hattie couldn't put her finger on it.

Hattie had the thought that they were grenades—perfectly safe with the pin still in, but you wouldn't really want to mess with them in fear of them blowing up. Safe and dangerous all at once.

As she thought this, Edythe's twin glanced up and met Hattie's eyes. Having already been down this road once, Hattie looked away, noting that Edythe was smiling into her plate.

Angela explained quietly, "The big one is Emmett Cullen, then there's Jasper and Rosalie Hale, the blonds. They're all seniors. The little one is Alice Cullen, she's Emmett's little sister, and then that's Edythe and Edward Cullen. They're in our class. They moved here a couple years ago from Alaska, with Dr. Cullen."

"They're a family?" Hattie confirmed, looking still at the bronze twins—Edythe and Edward. Edythe was now in what looked to be an intense conversation with Alice, but Edward's head was cocked a little as if he was listening to something.

Hattie tried not to feel as if it were her conversation.

"The Hales are Mrs. Cullen's niece and nephew I guess, she's had them for a long time, but the Cullens are all adopted. You wouldn't believe it if you saw how young the doctor and his wife are," Jessica gossiped, leaning in to be part of the conversation. "They're kind of _weird. _They keep to themselves. And they're all together—like _together _together. Alice and Jasper, Emmett and Rosalie."

Hattie flashed a look at Jessica, irritated at the girl's rudeness. "They're not related," she pointed out. "Isn't that kind of judgmental of you?"

Jessica huffed out a nervous laugh like she thought Hattie was joking. "Yeah, but they live together. Isn't that strange?"

"Finding your happiness isn't strange." Hattie insisted, in a no-nonsense tone. "If they're adopted, you have no idea what they went through to get to where they are. Cut them a little slack."

Before Jessica could say anything—or any of the rest of the group, who had gone quiet at her proclamation—Hattie stood and left the cafeteria. Behind her Angela was whispering to her friends.

"Jessica, be a little more sensitive. Hattie lives with her uncle now, remember?"

But Hattie pushed it out of her mind, seeking sanctuary in her car. All she could think was no wonder the Cullens kept to themselves, if this is how people treated them.

She brushed off all the thoughts she'd previously had of them. Or course they seemed dangerous: they were guarded, used to being hurt by the people around them. Hattie was much the same, a little high-strung. If her Professor hadn't stepped in at such an early age, Hattie assumed that her shyness might have manifested as something very similar to the Cullens' guarded nature.

She thought of the boy in the House Gryffindor tie from her dream, what seemed like years ago now. His tense shoulders, pained eyes.

Yes—maybe that's how she would've been.


	5. Chapter 5

**05.**

_You couldn't expect anyone else to share your suffering. You had to carry your pain alone. _―_Kass Morgan_

* * *

Their mother drove them to the airport with the windows rolled down. She sat in the front seat, her brother in the back—it was beautiful in Phoenix. Seventy-five degrees, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue.

She was wearing her favorite shirt, which her mother had given her: white, sleeveless, lacy. It was a farewell gesture, a goodbye to beautiful Phoenix.

It'd been three years since she'd been to Washington, but even she couldn't forget the dreary weather. Forks, Washington existed in the Olympic Peninsula under a near constant cover of clouds, seeing more rainfall than nearly any other place in the United States.

Their mother had escaped from this miserable town and it's gloomy, omnipresent shade when they were only a few months old. She'd been brave, or possibly stupid, to venture out into the world on her own with only her infant twins in tow. That was seventeen years ago.

For over a decade she and Beau had been compelled to spend two weeks of every summer with their dad, Charlie, in this melancholy town of Forks. Then, three years ago, she'd put her foot down. Beau had gone along with it, and ever since then they'd vacationed in sunny southern California with their dad instead.

It was a self-exile, one she and Beau had agreed upon together. Even still, the idea of banishing herself to Forks was horrifying. She hated the town. They loved Phoenix, with its blistering heat and vigorous, sprawling city. And Beau would leave behind more than Bella; he had true friends here, a prospective future.

"Kids," Renee said in desperation, one last time before they boarded their plane. "Really, you don't have to do this."

Beau spared Bella a glance, then lowered his blue eyes. They'd agreed. Perhaps they might have wavered if either were singular, but they would always be a team.

Still, Renee looked like her—except with short hair and laugh lines. She felt a sort of panic looking into those youthful brown eyes. How could they leave their mother, their scatter-brained, erratic mother? Of course, she was married now. Phil would ensure the bills got paid, groceries were bought, that there was gas in the car. He'd give her directions when she got lost.

These thoughts strengthened her resolve, which Renee must've seen, because she wilted a little.

"Bella," Renee tried.

"I want to go," Bella insisted. "So does Beau."

"Yeah," Beau agreed. To Bella's ears it sounded like a plea for help, but their mother bought it, nodding resignedly.

"Tell Charlie I said hi," Renee sighed. "Be safe."

"We will," Beau told her, and this time he sounded more self-assured. "We'll see you soon, mom."

"You can come home whenever you want. I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

But they both knew the sacrifices she'd have to make in order to do that. They shared another look, blue eyes meeting brown, steadfast.

"Don't worry about us," Bella forced a smile. "It'll be great. I love you mom."

"I love you," Beau agreed.

She hugged each of them for a moment too long. This was as hard for her as it was for them—she'd fought so long to keep them fed and clothed, fought to teach them, fought to keep them safe. And now she was sending them off to her worst nightmare.

Forks, Washington.

Bella left first, but Beau couldn't help looking back as they walked away—he'd always been a bit of a momma's boy, and this was hurting him tremendously. As they passed through security and headed towards their gate, she could already see his fingers itching for his cell phone.

It was a four-hour flight to Seattle and another hour in a smaller plane to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying wasn't the hard part—the hour stuck in a car with Charlie was what worried her.

Charlie had been really nice about the whole thing. He'd been hesitant at first because he'd already finalized the process of bringing his niece over from the UK to live with him, but once he'd agreed to figure things out he seemed genuinely pleased. It would be the first time his kids lived with him with any sort of permeance.

He'd already gotten them registered for school and had even agreed to help them find a car.

But it was sure to be awkward, anyways. None of them were what anyone could call verbose, and Bella didn't know what they'd have to talk about anyways. He was more than a little confused about their decision—like their mother before her, Bella especially had never made a secret of her disdain for Forks.

When they landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. It wasn't an omen, just unavoidable.

"Goody," Beau sighed, offering her suitcase to her. "I thought I'd prepared myself."

"Me, too," Bella pitched her voice low. "It wasn't enough."

"Pretend you're a duck," Beau advised. "Perfect weather for a duck."

Bella shook her head with a wry grin, heading toward arrivals where Charlie was sure to be waiting. "Quack," she joked, half-heartedly.

They were both chuckling as they approached Charlie, who was waiting with the cruiser. This she'd been expecting, and was also the primary reason behind their motivation to buy a car. Despite their scarce funds, she refused to be paraded around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

Charlie gave her a much warmer hug than she'd been expecting when she stumbled out of arrivals. Then he turned to Beau, clapping him on the shoulder and seeming to decide, fuck it, and pulled him into a hug as well.

It was shocking and unexpected.

"Good to see you, kids," he said, smiling. He automatically steadied her when she stumbled putting her bag in his car. "You haven't changed much. How's Renee?"

"Mom's fine," Bella said. At the same time, Beau responded, "It's good to see you too, Dad."

They each only had a few bags. Most of their wardrobe was meant for the Arizona heat—much too permeable for Washington. Renee had helped them supplement their winter wardrobes, but it was still scanty. Even with two sets of belongings, it all fit easily into the cruiser.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," Charlie announced as Bella strapped herself in. She had been delegated to the back this time, and Beau was already strapped in the front.

"What kind of car?" Beau asked, sounding suspicious. Bella couldn't help but agree—the 'for you' didn't give her very high expectations.

"Well, it's a truck, actually. A Chevy," Charlie explained.

"Where'd you find it?" Bella asked, perhaps a bit sharper than intended. Beau sent her a look that said, 'play nice' and she reigned her annoyance in.

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" Charlie wondered, glancing up at her in the mirror. "He used to go fishing with us in the summer."

Beau was nodding thoughtfully, but Bella didn't really remember—she did a good job of blocking out the unpleasant, unnecessary things from her memory.

"Well he's in a wheel chair now, so he can't drive it. He offered to sell it to me real cheap."

"What year is it?" Beau asked. The look of suspicion was back.

From the change of expression on Charlie's face, he'd been hoping they wouldn't ask. "Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine—it's only a few years old, really."

"When did he buy it?" Beau prompted again.

"He bought it in '84, I think."

"Did he buy it new?" her brother demanded.

"Well…no. I think it was new in the early sixties—or late fifties, at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.

"Ch—Dad. We don't know anything about cars. Neither of us would be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and even with both of us we wouldn't be able to afford a mechanic…" Bella hedged, sighing.

"Really, Bells. The thing runs great. They don't make 'em like that anymore."

_The Thing. _It had possibilities—as a nickname, at the very least.

"How cheap is cheap?" she finally asked, defeated. She and Beau had a modest savings if they pooled their money together, but she didn't want to spend a fortune on a car that was half a century old.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you guys. A homecoming gift." Charlie peeked through the rearview mirror, looking hopeful.

Wow. Free. You can't beat that.

"You didn't have to do that, Dad," Beau protested. "We were going to buy ourselves a car."

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking at the road as he spoke, but his voice was strong. She'd never heard him express his emotions so confidently—something Bella, if not Beau as well, had inherited from him.

She looked straight ahead as she responded. "That's really great, dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, we do," Beau hummed, looking out the passenger window.

It was unspoken that they didn't need to voice their opinions about Forks—how they would never be happy here. Charlie didn't need to suffer with them.

Besides, they'd never look a free truck in the mouth. (Or engine.)

"Well, now, you're welcome," Charlie said sincerely. "You're gonna love it."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries along the ride—mostly about the weather, which was wet. They all stared out the windows in silence.

It was beautiful, of course—even Bella couldn't deny it. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered in moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.

It was too green—an alien planet.

It was Beau who remembered their cousin first, as they saw the first exit sign for Forks. He perked up a little, seeming both curious and disdained.

"Heather didn't come," Beau commented idly. Charlie glanced up.

"Oh, Hattie?" Charlie questioned, gruffly. "Yeah, she stayed back at the house to get ready for you—think she's a bit nervous to be honest. I had her staying in your room Beau, didn't want her out in the loft by herself."

Bella smiled at the thought that she was another of their family with a name they couldn't stand—though at least _her _name wasn't as bad as Beaufort. She smirked in amusement at her brother's misfortune.

"She settled in alright?" Beau asked curiously. "She's been here what, a month?"

"Six weeks," Charlie affirmed. "Yeah, she's doin' alright. She's something else. I think it'll do her good to have some company."

Bella (and unbeknownst to her, Beau) both tried to picture their cousin. She was a little younger—born the summer after them. Neither of them knew much about her, they hadn't asked much. Charlie hadn't given much information away either—only that she was an orphan who had lived with their other Aunt and cousin for most of her life.

When Bella had questioned Renee about that side of the family, the woman had admitted she didn't know much. She'd met Charlie's sisters, Petunia and Lily, once. From how Renee told it, Lily was charming and confidant, though tired. Petunia was overly theatrical and manipulative, and it was clear Renee hadn't liked her much. The sisters didn't get along and couldn't be left alone together.

It was no wonder Hattie wanted to get away from that.

Eventually they made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the same small, two-story house he'd bought with Renee in the early days of their marriage. (Those were the only days their marriage had, the early ones.)

There, parked on the street in front of the house, was their new (new-to-them) truck. It was faded red, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To her immense surprise, she _loved _it.

If Beau's reaction was any indication, he was pretty fond of it as well.

She could see them in it. It was one of those old, solid iron affairs that never get damaged. The kind you see at the scene of an accident, intact, surrounded by the pieces of a foreign car it had destroyed.

"Wow, dad," Beau gasped.

"I love it!" Bella agreed.

Now tomorrow wouldn't be as horrific as they'd expected. They wouldn't be faced with the choice of walking two miles in the rain or accepting a ride in the cruiser.

Though—she could see a shiny blue hatchback parked further up the driveway, presumably Hattie's car. They probably wouldn't have had to walk.

"Alright, let's head in," Charlie said, motioning to the rain, which was picking up again. "Bells, do you want to come in or take your stuff up to the loft and settle in? I think Hattie's in the house if you want to meet her."

Beau was unloading his bags and paused to glance at her. She shrugged.

"I think I'm going to take my stuff up to the loft," she told Charlie. "I'll come in in a bit."

"Do you need help?" Charlie asked concernedly. Before she could say no, he was already pulling her stuff out. "Go on in, Beau. Hattie's in there."

Beau sent Bella a look that screamed 'help me', but there was nothing to be done—they parted ways.

Charlie and Bella managed to take her things up in one trip between the two of them. The loft was actually really nice—Hattie must've sprayed some air freshener because, though there was the smell of fresh paint, it was covered up by a slightly sweet, flowery smell.

Hattie had the far room and the door was slightly ajar. She had a shelf for shoes outside her door and it was filled with a multitude of cute shoes. On the coat rack inside the entrance was a puffy winter coat, scarf, and umbrella, with room for Bella's things as well. There was a key rack and her cousin's keys were hung there.

Bella wasted little time shedding her shoes and parka onto the rack, hanging her keys up, and entered the closer room.

Both were westward facing, looking out over the front yard. It was a small room, but cozy, with a plush bed, a bookshelf, a desk, and a dresser. There was a small built in closet on one side of the room.

"Hattie tried to tidy up," Charlie said, indicating his shoes. He was standing on the welcome mat before Bella's bedroom with his muddy shoes still on. Bella noticed that the carpet had been freshly vacuumed and felt a little fond of her cousin. "She made up your bed and everything."

He placed her bags inside the room and leaned on the door, hesitating as she began putting things away. This was unlike him—Charlie wasn't one to hover.

Bella continued stacking things in their respective places as she prompted him, "Dad?"

Charlie cleared his throat awkwardly. "Sorry, you probably want to be left alone. I just thought…it'd be really nice if you and Hattie could be friends."

She lowered her stack of novels back into the suitcase, looking at him curiously. "Okay…Dad, what's going on?"

Her dad scuffed his shoe on the welcome mat. "I don't know myself, really," he admitted. "I just think she could use a girl her age. I don't think she's had much of a childhood."

Bella started putting things together in her head: why a sixteen-year-old girl would suddenly make the choice to move across the ocean to live with a single man she'd never met. Why her dad had been much better at expressing his emotions than the last time she'd saw him.

"Of course, dad," she told him. "I'm sure everything will be fine."

He let her finish unpacking, even taking her stuff to the bathroom she'd share with Hattie, before he walked her back to the house.

—x—

Beau used the key hidden in the eaves to let himself into the house. He set his bags inside the door before going back for the last one, then entered fully, shutting the door behind him.

The house looked cleaner than the last time he'd been here, a little more loved. It smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg. The lights were off, but he could hear the TV in the background, so he flipped one on, calling out questioningly.

"Hattie?"

The TV abruptly turned off and after a moment a petite girl arrived around the corner. She was smaller than Bella by a good few inches, with long black hair and big green eyes. She looked delicate, unsure, but something about the way she held her shoulders was…confident?

Unsure, but confident?

There was a strength hidden in her posture that didn't quite align with her delicate looks. Still, he smiled, a little unsure himself.

"Ah, hi—I'm Beau."

A tiny grin stole across her face. "Hi, Beau," she said his name like it was new to her—with a groan he realized she probably had only known him as Beaufort.

(Hypocritical, as he'd thought she went by Heather.)

"It's nice to meet you," his cousin continued, stepping forward. "Can I help you with your bags?"

"Oh, uh—" he was going to tell her he could get it. After all, she was probably a foot shorter than him, and he felt weird making her help him when he should've been able to do it himself. But he'd barely gotten his stutter out before she was taking his backpack from him, and one of the other bags.

Then she was on the stairs, smiling as she marched up them.

Beau hurriedly grabbed the last couple of bags and followed her up, bewildered.

His room faced out over the lawn, and it was very familiar to him. It smelled lightly feminine—probably due to his cousin having been staying here—but it was clean, the bed done up. This room had belonged to him and Bella since they'd been born.

The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window—these were all a part of his childhood. The only changes Charlie had made through the years were switching out the cribs and adding a desk as they grew. The desk held an ancient computer, a few ethernet cables poking out.

Not quite Wi-Fi, but better than the last time Beau had been in the room—when it had been phone lines stapled along the wall.

Even the rocking chair from his childhood still stood in the corner.

Hattie perched on the corner of the bed as Beau unpacked, a silent but not entirely unwelcome presence. He didn't know what to say to her and clearly, she didn't know what to say to him, but the silence was comfortable enough.

It was nice not to be alone, and even though he didn't know her, he felt he didn't have to pretend to smile or look pleased. He was of a different frame of mind than his sister—being in Forks wasn't the worst thing to happen to him. Sure, he preferred Phoenix, and he loathed being away from his mother, but he could make Forks work.

"I made some dinner, if you're hungry," Hattie said quietly as Beau finished up. "I know I was when I got here."

Beau tried not to look surprised, but agreed to this. "No wonder Charlie likes you, you feed him."

Hattie laughed delicately and they trailed back down the stairs. She led him into the kitchen and brought out some food, just some chicken and mashed potatoes. Comfort food.

She dished it up for him, no-doubt used to caring for Charlie by now, and sat across from him with a small serving for herself. "I've already eaten," she assured him.

"So, you go to the high school already?" Beau asked. She didn't necessarily look like a child, but she was small enough she could probably fit in at the middle school.

"Yeah, it's alright," Hattie told him. "It was strange at first. I had to jump through some hoops because my transcripts are weird."

"Because you're from the UK?" he wondered. She had a pretty posh accent, but he didn't comment on it—she probably heard about it a lot, all things considered.

"Because I'm from the UK," the girl agreed. "It's not too bad. Everyone there looks at me like I'm a brand-new toy though, so I feel a bit like an object."

"Well lucky for you there's two new kids starting tomorrow," Beau grinned cheekily. He heard the door open in the background and felt relieved, for some reason, that Hattie was there to act as a buffer with Charlie.

"Hattie?" Charlie's voice called—some things never change. "Beau?"

"In the kitchen," Beau called back. Their vocal range was pretty similar, he noted idly.

Bella and Charlie entered, Charlie ruffling up Hattie's hair and telling her to sit back down when she tried to get up and make him a plate.

Bella's eyes roamed Hattie's form curiously. Now that they were seated together Beau could tell that Hattie was about four inches shorter than his sister.

"Hey," Bella greeted Hattie. "I'm Bella."

"That's a pretty name," Hattie informed her. "I'm Hattie."

"Oh…uh, thanks," Bella said awkwardly.

"Isn't it funny that you all go by nicknames?" Charlie asked, plopping down with his food. He passed a plate to Bella as well.

Beau snorted. "If your name was _Beaufort _you'd go by a nickname too."

"It could be worse; our other cousin is called Dudley. The only nickname for that is Dud, which might just be worse." Hattie informed him cheerily.

"Oh, I forgot we had another cousin," Bella said. "What's he like?"

And just like that, all of the warmth went out of Hattie's eyes. She was quiet for a beat too long.

"Hattie?" Charlie prompted. "You okay?"

She snapped out of her thoughts, smiling a plastic-looking smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Dudley's Dudley. Hard to explain."

The Swans all nodded, but Beau noticed Charlie looked troubled. He shared a look with Bella, like, 'what is that all about?'

—x—

Dinner was much better than Bella could have hoped. Hattie was a good buffer for the Swan awkwardness, so there was a little more chatter than there would've been otherwise. It was a good distraction from her woes.

All too soon, though, the group was heading their separate ways—it was getting late and they all had responsibilities in the morning. Beau headed up to shower before bed, and Bella and Hattie took the three-step walk from the house to the garage.

"Do you want to shower?" Bella asked, motioning their shared bathroom. It'd be weird getting used to a new person's schedule, but it couldn't be as bad as sharing with Renee.

"No, I'll shower in the morning," Hattie smiled delicately. "Have a good night, Bella."

Washing off the day's travels felt like heaven to Bella. The steam worked at the tenseness of her muscles and she could almost forget she was in Forks, if just for that moment.

Standing before the mirror brushing her hair out, Bella allowed herself to throw a tiny pity party. She would never fit in in Forks. She would be the new girl from a big city, a curiosity, a freak. Maybe if she looked like a girl from Phoenix should, it would be different. But physically she'd never fit in anywhere.

She should be tan, sporty, blond—a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps—all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun. Instead, she was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. She'd always been slender, but soft somehow, obviously not an athlete. She didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating herself—and harming anybody who stood nearby.

It wasn't just physically that she'd never fit in. She didn't relate well to people her age. Maybe the truth was that she didn't relate well to people, period. Even Beau, her twin, who she was closer to than anyone on the planet, was never in harmony with her. Never exactly on the same page. Sometimes she wondered if she was seeing the same things through her eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs.

Maybe there was a glitch in her brain.

But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect.

And tomorrow was the beginning.

Even after she was done crying for the night—trying to be quiet, not to disturb Hattie—Bella had a hard time sleeping. The constant whooshing of the rain and the wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background. Even with her pillow over her head, she didn't fall asleep until almost midnight, when the rain quieted into a drizzle.

The thick fog was all she could see out the window in the morning, and she felt claustrophobia creeping up on her. You could never see the sky here—it was like a cage.

As she was finished getting dressed, there was a knock on her door. Bella hefted her bag onto her shoulder, heading toward the noise.

Hattie stood on the other side and Bella had to swallow down her insecurities. The girl was not so dissimilar to Bella. Pale skin, but flushed with a happy warmth Bella's would never have, and it didn't have the same papery translucence that Bella's had. And she was tiny, lithe, and thin, but the set of her shoulders showed there was very little softness about her.

"Wow, you look—nice," Bella stuttered, feeling self-conscious. Hattie had a nice pair of leggings on, and a long blouse and cardigan. There was a headband tied messily into her hair. Even in comfortable clothes, Hattie looked cute. On the other hand, Bella was wearing worn jeans and a brown t-shirt and converse.

"Hm?" Hattie asked, looking down at herself. "Oh…thanks. It's nothing special really."

Her cousin moved out of the way, letting Bella come out and grab her jacket, umbrella and car keys. "Did you need something? You knocked."

"Oh!" Hattie was collecting her own things. "I was just seeing if you wanted to go down together."

Bella nodded, appreciating that Hattie seemed to have some sixth sense that neither Beau or herself were super comfortable with Charlie. They headed into the kitchen, where Beau looked half-dead eating his cereal.

"Mornin', girls," Charlie called, clomping down the stairs. "Mornin' Beau."

The trio all greeted him with varying states of chipperness as they moved around each other in the kitchen. Bella sat and poured herself a bowl of cereal. Vaguely she noted Charlie and Hattie chatting, and Beau nodding off to sleep and nearly falling into his cheerios, but she was focused on the kitchen.

It was like being frozen in time, to be honest. Sitting at the old oak table in the four mismatched chairs. The only thing that had changed were the people sitting in the kitchen. The dark-paneled walls, cheery yellow cabinets and white linoleum floors were all the same. Renee had painted those cabinets eighteen years ago in a failed attempt to bring some sunshine into the house.

Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. A wedding picture of Charlie and Renee in Las Vegas, then one of the four of them in the hospital the day Bella and Beau were born, taken by a helpful nurse. A procession of school pictures followed. There was even one of Hattie and Charlie on the ocean, in a boat. Charlie was standing behind Hattie holding a giant fish up, looking proud.

It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize Charlie had never gotten over her mom. It made her uncomfortable.

"Are you ready?" Bella asked Beau. She didn't want to be too early to school, but she couldn't stay in the house anymore.

"Oh, uh, sure."

They rinsed out their bowls and were headed toward the door and Beau stopped, frowning.

"Don't you think it's weird to take two separate cars if we're all going the same place?"

Bella could concede to this, and headed back toward the kitchen. Hattie was zipping her coat up, looking content.

"Hey, Hattie. Did you want to carpool to school?" she called to her cousin, who jerked her head up in surprise. There was warmth in the girl's eyes, like she wasn't used to having people think about her.

"Oh, sure," Hattie said. "It is kind of silly to waste gas when we're all going the same place."

The trio headed out the door. It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak her immediately as she locked the house up. The sloshing of her new waterproof boots, combined with those of her cousin and brother, was unnerving. She missed the crunch of gravel under her feet as she walked.

She paused and admired her truck longingly for one heartbeat, but it wouldn't fit the three of them comfortably—so they decided to take Hattie's car.

It was a nice car. Beau was commenting on it from the front seat as Hattie started the car up and it purred.

"It is nice. Uncle Charlie's friend, Mr. Newton, helped me find it when I got my license," Hattie said cheerfully. "I love it."

The pair of them chatted idly and the radio played quietly in the background. Bella was watching out the window, pitying herself, as they headed toward the highway.

Forks High School, like most other things, was right off the highway—and at first it wasn't obvious it was a school. Only the school sign gave it away. It looked like a collection of matching houses built with maroon-colored bricks.

There were so many trees and shrubs she couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution? Where were the chain link fences, the metal detectors?

Hattie parked them in front of the office building first. "You'll need to get your schedules," she said cheerfully. The car was toasty and Bella didn't really want to get out, especially given it was drizzling, but Beau was already exiting.

Well—here goes nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

\- Bella and Beau's first day of school!  
\- Follows along with Twilight chapter 1  
\- Breaking The Rules™: In this universe, vampires can eat food.

* * *

**06.**

_But I guess what you really want to know are the things you can't ask. ―Meg Rosoff_

* * *

Inside the office was brightly lit, and warmer than he'd hoped. It was small: a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside—but he kind of liked it.

The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"We're the Swans," Beau called, motioning half-heartedly to Bella. Awareness lit in her eyes.

They were expected—a topic of gossip, no doubt. Children of the chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last, he thought bitterly.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk until she found the right ones. "I have your schedules here, and a map of the school—but you have Hattie, so you probably won't need it."

She gave them each a pink slip of paper to be signed by all their teachers, which they had to return at the end of the day. Then she wished them good luck.

Bella smiled, actually looking somewhat convincing.

When they went back to Hattie's car she was preoccupied with her cellphone, texting rapidly on it. She was smiling in the kind of way that made your cheeks ache.

"Hey," he told her, settling back in. "You look happy."

She blushed at him and didn't respond, which didn't leave much up to the imagination. He figured it must be a boy.

Other students were beginning to arrive now—Hattie drove around the school, following the line of traffic. Beau was sort of glad to see that most of the cars in the lot were older, like their truck. Nothing flashy. Even Hattie's wasn't super flashy.

At home, they'd lived in a lower-income neighborhood that was included in the Paradise Valley District. It was common to see a Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot.

Here, the nicest car was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out.

"What do you have first?" Bella asked from the back seat as the found a parking spot. Hattie cut the engine and glanced over curiously as Beau's schedule.

"Wow, Beau—looks like you can stick with me today. Except for fifth period, our classes are the same."

Beau nodded, feeling sort of relieved he wouldn't have to go it alone, and handed his schedule back to Bella.

"Looks like we all have English together," Bella noted, gathering her bag. "And P.E."

"Ugh, P.E.," Beau groaned, only half-joking.

Now that he knew he wouldn't be alone the whole day, Beau was feeling much better about the situation. (He could see by Bella's face that she, however, was not.) As they all headed into the building, people greeted Hattie but mostly she kept her head down.

They followed a pair of unisex raincoats into a building marked with a large, black "3", stopping inside the door to hang up their coats. The classroom was small and most of the desks were already filled with teens. Almost everyone was just as pale as he and Bella, which was somewhat of a relief—they wouldn't stand out here.

Mr. Mason, a tall, balding teacher, gawked at them when he realized who they were. Bella flushed tomato red, but Beau just brushed it off—it was something he'd have to get used to eventually. Mr. Mason sent them to the only remaining empty desks without introducing them to the class.

Hattie was sat smack dab in the middle of the room, but Beau and Bella were on opposites sides in the back. This suited Beau fine…it was harder for people to stare at him when he was in the last row.

The reading list was fairly basic, and he knew Bella had read everything on it. He was missing one or two, ones that weren't required reading back home—he didn't dislike reading, just preferred more modern stuff.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, Beau picked up his bag to go find Hattie. When he turned to wave at Bella, he noticed a gangly boy with skin problems and hair as black as an oil slick had leaned over the aisle to accost her.

Beau could hear him, even as he made it across the room to where Hattie was still packing up.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"

"Bella," his sister corrected.

"Where's your next class?"

Hattie glanced up when Beau stood next to her, grinning slyly. Beau did not like that look one bit—it was way too mischievous.

"What?" Beau asked suspiciously.

"Eric alert," Hattie whispered happily, nodding toward Bella. "I feel bad, but at least he's leaving me alone now."

Beau looked back up at the boy, who reminded him of someone who'd be in a chess club. He was still nattering on at Bella, who looked ticked, but not ticked enough to send him away.

"Yeah, she'll be fine," Beau chuckled. "Where to?"

Hattie led him to US History, chatting about how she hated the teacher and the subject. She added that at least her one real friend at the school was in it with her—and now, Beau.

They met up with said friend, a tall girl named Angela, whose cuteness flustered Beau a little bit. The three of them all sat together in US History after Mrs. Mackerel forced him to introduce himself to the class…but at least they knew he preferred to go by Beau.

Then they had art, which was looking to be the proverbial sunshine in his cloudy day.

Beau was an artist. Always had been. Bella had her books, Beau had his paints.

Hattie obviously disliked art, the frustrated way she mixed her paint made him laugh. At the end, when they were supposed to have realistically painted the given sunflowers, he had a passable attempt for only an hour's work.

Hers looked like a pile of bananas.

Ms. Coal praised him, and didn't exactly tell Hattie off—but her lack of comment told them everything they needed to know.

The duo left the room laughing about Hattie's atrocious painting.

—x—

After two classes, Bella started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask her questions about how she was liking Forks. She tried to be diplomatic, but mostly she just lied a lot.

At least she never needed the map. She begrudged her brother for having Hattie, and wondered how he was faring.

One girl sat next to Bella in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked her to the cafeteria for lunch. Bella had never been so excited for lunch at a high school—she just wanted to be reunited with someone she was comfortable being around.

They sat at a table with several of her friends, who she introduced Bella to. (Bella promptly forgot all their names as soon as they were spoken.) The boy from English, Eric, waved at her from across the table.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that she first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where Bella was sitting as possible. There were six of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't really eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They also weren't gawking at her like most everyone else was, so she found it safe to stare at them.

But it was none of those things that caught, and held, her attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big—muscled like a serious weight lifter with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of Sports Illustrated, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. The second was small, but not as small as the last—built like a dancer, not unlike Hattie. She had thick bronze hair and a timeless beauty, like she could have just stepped out of any era known to man. The last was shorter still, pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was deep black, cropped short, pointing in every direction.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than Bella, paler than Hattie. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes—purplish, bruise-like shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular.

She couldn't look away—their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see, except maybe airbrushed onto a magazine, or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful—perhaps the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy.

They were all looking away—away from each other, away from the other students. Away from anything in particular, really. Occasionally, one of them would take a bite of food, chew slowly, swallow. As Bella watched, the smallest girl rose with her tray—quick, graceful, like a tiny ballerina—and loped away. Her gait was one you would expect to see on a runway.

"Who are they?" Bella asked quietly to the girl from her Spanish class.

She didn't even look up to see who Bella was talking about, but even so, it was obvious she knew. As she opened her mouth to begin speaking, the thinner one, the boyish one, glanced up at her. He looked at her for a fraction of a second, perhaps, and then his eyes flickered to Bella.

He looked away quickly—more quickly than Bella could have, though she still dropped her eyes guiltily in a flush of embarrassment. In that briefest flash of a glimpse, his face had held nothing of interest—it was as if she had called his name and he looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

Bella's neighbor giggled a little bit, side-eyeing Bella. "That's Edward, Emmett, and Edythe Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife," she said, under her breath.

Bella glanced back at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking apart his bagel with long, pale fingers. Every once in a while, he'd deposit a piece in his mouth, but it looked forced. Otherwise his mouth was moving very quickly, perfect lips barely opening. The others were all looking away still, but it seemed as if he were speaking quietly to them.

She thought their names were strange, unpopular—the kind of names grandparents have. But maybe that was normal here, small town names?

Bella finally remembered her neighbor was called Jessica—a very common name.

"They are very…nice-looking," Bella said, severely understating her point.

"Yes!" Jessica giggled. "They're all together, though. Emmett and Rosalie and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of a small town.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" Bella asked. "They don't look related."

As she was asking it, Beau and Hattie finally showed up. Hattie plopped down looking disapproving.

"Are you gossiping about the Cullens again?" she asked Jessica, who snapped her mouth closed guiltily. Hattie turned to Bella and frowned. "Jasper and Rosalie are the blonds. They're Mrs. Cullen's niece and nephew. Edward and Edythe are the bronze-haired twins."

Bella picked at her food as her brother and cousin began eating. She was still curious and wondered what Hattie's problem with Jessica was.

"I think it's really kind nice that the Cullens take care of so many kids, when they're so young and all," she commented idly.

Jessica was slow to agree, almost reluctant. It seemed like she didn't like the doctor and his wife very much—with the envious glances she was throwing at their adopted children, Bella's best guess was jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids though," she added, as if that lessened their kindness.

Bella was shocked, but she was even more shocked when Hattie slammed her lunch bag onto the table and looked at Jessica with ferocity.

"How insensitive are you?" Hattie demanded. "It doesn't matter why or how the Cullens were taken in. You sit here and gossip like you know their story, but I've never seen one of you try to talk to them. You just call them weird and talk behind their backs."

Jessica looked properly chastised. Though Hattie's voice had been low, the boyish Cullen—Edward, Bella knew now—glanced up. He met Bella's gaze with open curiosity. As she looked quickly away, it seemed like his glance held an unmet expectation.

Peeking at him from the corner of her eye whilst Hattie steamed and Jessica moped, Bella realized he was still staring. Not gawking, like the other students—his expression was frustrated.

—x—

Hattie and Bella walked to Biology II together, leaving Beau to find his own way to Chemistry. Hattie still seemed to be in a mood, which Bella didn't push her on, though she was trying to make the connection. It didn't seem like Hattie was friends with the Cullens, yet she—what? Sympathized with them?

They parted ways at the door, Hattie going to sit at her lab table. She already had a lab partner—a shy girl Bella had met during lunch, called Angela. In fact, every table was full except for one.

Near the center aisle, Bella recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair color, sitting next to the single open seat.

As Bella walked down the aisle to introduce herself and have her slip signed by the teacher, she watched him surreptitiously. Just as she passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at her, meeting her eyes with the strangest expression—it was hostile, furious. She looked away quickly, shocked, blushing again.

She stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch herself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled.

His eyes. She'd noticed his eyes—they'd been black. Coal black.

Of course Mr. Banner had no choice but to send her to the sole open seat, and of course it was next to Edward. She kept her eyes down as she went to take her seat, bewildered by his antagonistic stare.

She could see his posture change from the corner of her eye as she sat. He was leaning away from her, sitting at the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face as if he smelled something terrible. Inconspicuously, Bella sniffed her hair, but it smelled fine—like her strawberry shampoo.

During the whole lecture, never once did Edward relax his position. He stayed tensed, hand clenched into a fist, his tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and she was surprised that he was not nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his burly brothers.

The class seemed to drag on longer than any of the others had—perhaps because she'd already had this particular lecture, or perhaps because she was waiting for him to relax. He never did. He continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing.

It couldn't have anything to do with her, right? He didn't know her from Eve.

She made the mistake of peeking up at him again—he was glaring at her, his black eyes full of revulsion. She flinched away, shrinking against her chair. _If looks could kill, _she thought.

The moment the bell rang, startling Bella, Edward was up and out of his chair. He rose fluidly from his chair—he was much taller than she'd imagined—and was out of the door before anyone else had even left their seat.

She was frozen in her seat, staring blankly after him. He'd been so rude—it wasn't fair. She gathered up her things slowly, trying to block the anger the filled her, for fear her eyes would tear up.

"Bella?" Hattie's voice broke through her anger, and she turned, looking wild-eyed. Hattie seemed concerned. "What was all that about?"

"I have no idea," Bella muttered, trying not to let her anger get to her still.

"I've never seen him act like that…" Hattie said, almost to herself. "It was almost as if he was in pain."

They were headed toward the gym by this point, and Hattie was still looking troubled.

"I don't—smell bad, do I?" Bella asked, hesitatingly. Hattie gave a startled laugh. "Well I just thought I'd ask!"

Once they got to the gym, Hattie left to change. Beau met up with them, looking dazed or possibly star-struck—Bella didn't tell him about Edward. Likewise, he didn't tell her about whatever had him in a mood.

Coach Clapp found them uniforms but didn't make them dress down. Bella was grateful for this small mercy.

They were watching four games of volleyball being played simultaneously. Bella cringed as she remembered all the injuries she had sustained…and inflicted…playing volleyball. Hattie seemed to be having a blast, though. She was playing hard, moving with a graceful proficiency that reminded Bella of a hunting cat. Beau was watching wide-eyed as well as their cousin dived to save a ball from hitting the ground, going down onto one knee—nearly going onto her stomach.

"Are you sure she's related to us?" Beau asked, as the final bell rang. "That _was _the same girl from last night, right?"

As she left for the locker rooms, Hattie waved them off to go to the main office so they could have their papers signed. Bella walked slowly, letting the chill of the wind refresh her after her long day.

When she walked into the office, Beau right behind her, she nearly turned around and left again.

Edward was there. She recognized the tousled bronze hair—he didn't seem to hear them come in, too busy arguing with the receptionist.

Listening to his low, attractive voice, Bella could make out the gist of his argument. He wanted to trade from fifth hour biology to another time…any other time.

She just couldn't believe it was about her. It had to be something else, something that happened before they came into the biology room—maybe Hattie was right, and he was in pain. The look on his face must've been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible for a stranger to take on such a sudden, intense dislike toward another person.

The door opened again, the cold wind gusting through the room. It blew Bella's hair about her face. The girl who came in simply stepped up to the desk, placed a small note in one of the wire baskets, and departed again. But Edward Cullen's back suddenly stiffened, and he turned, slowly, to glare at Bella.

His face was absurdly handsome, with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, she felt the thrill of fear, raising the hair on her arms. The look only lasted a second, and then his eyes flashed to Beau with much less hate.

He turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind, then," he said hastily, in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you for your help." And he turned without another look to the Swans and disappeared out the door.

When Bella and Beau got back to Hattie's car—she was waiting for them in front of the office now—Beau turned on Bella.

"What was that about?" he demanded, motioning to the office. "Why did he glare at you like that?"

"I don't know!" Bella crossed her arms against the wind. "He was very rude to me in biology and now this. I really don't know, Beau. Maybe this is how he acts."

They loaded into the car, where Hattie was once again texting her friend. She seemed to realize something was off, because the entire drive home she refrained from her usual cheerful chatter.

Bella appreciated this. She fought off tears the entire way home, and feigned tiredness once there as an excuse to retire to her bedroom.


	7. Chapter 7

_Follows the storyline of the first 1/3 of Twilight: 2._

* * *

**07.**

"_The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared." ―Lois Lowry_

* * *

Hattie puttered about in the kitchen that afternoon, debating what to make for dinner. Bella had escaped to the loft nearly as soon as the trio pulled into the driveway, looking frustrated and near tears. She'd radiated with ill-concealed anger.

Beau, too, had retired to his room. He'd been looking a little dazed ever since fifth period, and when they parted in the doorway, his excuse was homework. Hattie could hear him banging around up there and tried to imagine what he was doing.

With a sigh, the slight girl decided to make a chili. Once she had the pot on to simmer, she retired to the table and spread out her own homework.

Hattie's strategy was to go from least enjoyable to most enjoyable—that way she couldn't put off the least-liked subjects. As such, she started with US History, filling out a work sheet about some war that was, honestly, inconsequential to her.

She was scratching out equations for her Algebra homework, idly using her magic to stir to chili, when she felt it. The light brush of her Professor's magic, a slight weight deposited into her pocket.

Hattie had first contacted him only a week into her stay in Forks. Since then she'd written him several shorter notes, becoming increasingly worried when he didn't respond. She'd even risked sending him her phone number, not that she had any pretenses he'd use it.

This was the first time in six weeks he'd written, bar the present he'd sent her for Christmas. She was a little sore about it, essentially cut off from her world until he got back to her.

That didn't stop Hattie from dropping her pen and digging into her pocket eagerly. It amazed her how good Severus Snape was at locating her (in the past she'd wondered if he didn't use a tracking charm). Banishing a note to someone required precise skill, especially over such long distances—he had somehow managed to get it into her pocket.

He was an amazing man.

An irritating, cold, snarky, sarcastic git, but amazing.

The note was on parchment, folded into quarters, her name hastily scratched across the front in his elegant scrawl.

_Hattie—_

_ I dread to think what your insufferable mind has been wondering at my silence. Though we have been exceedingly busy, I am sure you've thought of a hundred different explanations as to why I have not written._

_ The answer is simply time. _

_ I am glad that your new home is finding you well. However, it's for the best you do not write too often, lest the letters run astray._

_ I am as well as always. Busier now that you are gone. Our acquaintances have redoubled their efforts and we are slowly chipping away at the regime. Amos Diggory infiltrated the Ministry and lost his life for it, but it has afforded us much needed information._

_ I have been recruiting. Though McGonagall wishes me to take on new students, now that my focus is not solely on your education, I find I cannot. I have other responsibilities now. _

_ As for the magical districts, I believe there may be one in Seattle, and a few dotted throughout California. You'll know when you've found one. Most are equipped with muggle repelling wards, so look for those._

_ Be careful with the Quileute. I know you are set on this path, but some cultures are very protective of their secrets. Perhaps you can find more information in Seattle._

_I will be sending along some letters your friends have entrusted to me. Correspondence is not the easiest at this time, so be forewarned that not everyone is represented. _

_Should you find your business in Forks finishes early, stay put until I call upon you. You are far safer there than you ever were here._

_ As always, be diligent. I will contact you if anything changes. _

_ Merry part,_

_Severus_

A teardrop splashed onto the parchment. It was the only sign Hattie had been crying—a few more followed it, making some of the words run.

She'd been so cut off from everyone she'd ever known. Hattie hadn't realized how isolated she'd felt until Professor's letter. Sure, Charlie was great, but there were some things she would never be allowed to tell him. It made her feel very alone.

A small stack of envelopes, neatly tied together with string, appeared atop Professor's letter. It was a clever charm: instead of assuming there would be a place to banish them too, Professor used his letter's location, once delivered, as a sort of guide.

It took her a moment, her shaking hands reaching for the stack of letters, to hear Beau's footsteps on the stairs. Panic settled in, catching in her throat—Hattie threw a hand out toward the pot on the stove. With a choppy, aborting gesture, she stopped the magic from stirring the pot. _Be diligent, _she thought sarcastically.

Just in time, Beau came around the corner. "Hattie?" he called. Then, when he saw her face: "What's wrong?"

Hattie gasped softly, dashing her tears away with her sleeves. "I just got some letters from…home," she explained to him. "I haven't heard from them in a while."

Her cousin's eyes softened. He folded himself into the chair across from her, setting his own schoolbooks down—he must've decided to come join her instead of locking himself away.

"Do you miss them?" Beau asked. There was a searching look in his blue eyes. "Your family?"

Hattie laid her hands over the letters, wondering what she should tell him. How do you explain her situation to someone who had come from two loving, if separate, homes?

She didn't miss the Dursleys. She missed Professor, even if he wasn't what she wanted him to be. She missed the certainty she'd had with him by her side…he would always do what was best for her, even if she didn't necessarily like it. She missed her network of allies, the friends who she'd grown up alongside, the ones who'd raised her, the ones she'd learned with. Those people were her true family—the family she'd made for herself.

The Dursleys would always leave a little ache in her heart. The what-ifs, the thought of what could have been. But there was no love lost—it'd been too little, too late by the time Hattie left.

Running her fingers over the letters, Hattie said with certainty, "None of these letters are from my family."

A look of clear realization flashed over Beau's face. "You don't like them."

Hattie tched, shaking her head sadly. "They don't like me."

He watched her get up, heading to stir the chili manually this time. His eyes felt like a heavy weight on her back, and though he didn't prompt her to continue further, she did.

"They never liked me. My mum…Lily…she and our Aunt Petunia never got along. When my parents died, Aunt Petunia took me in out of obligation. But I was a burden on them, and I think I reminded our aunt of her sister too much."

"You were a child," Beau pointed out. "That wasn't your fault."

"No," Hattie agreed. "I'm not making excuses. Just explaining."

"You were unhappy. Why did you wait so long to come live with Charlie?" Beau wondered, put off. Hattie could see that he was angered by what she'd told him, and he didn't even know the half of it.

"I didn't know Uncle Charlie existed," Hattie explained. This was the truth, but it was only half the story. "Even if I had…I was unhappy, but I fit where I was. The Dursleys didn't want me, but I spent most of my time in school or with my Professor. It was an arduous existence, but I was content."

She sat back down at the table, clearing away her letters to look at in private. She could see Beau's gaze directed at Professor's open letter, trying to get a desperate peek in at her life before them. She folded it, purposefully, and placed it below the others.

"Then, if you were content, why did you come here?" Beau murmured. His textbook was opened, but discarded—he stared at her so intensely that, if he were magical, she'd probably feel the effect of it.

Hattie smiled. "Professor was a friend of my mother's. He tutored me in subjects I wouldn't otherwise have learned—when my education with him came to an end, he told me about Uncle Charlie. He had no more to offer me education-wise, but Professor knew that there were people here in the states that I could continue learning from. When I learned of Uncle Charlie, my mind was made up—I wanted to get to know him, and I wanted to further my education."

—x—

Dinner that night was a pretty quiet affair. Bella was sulking and Hattie, too, was in her own little world. Beau wondered if she was thinking about her letters, which she still hadn't opened.

Beau seemed like he was the only one with any energy—though his day had started out miserable and dreary, when he parted ways with the girls it started looking up. In Chemistry he had met one of the Cullens that Bella and Hattie discussed at lunch, _Edythe. _

She was a literal goddess, petite and perfect. His eyes had been drawn to her from the moment she slipped into the room until the second she left. But what had really dazed him was that she seemed interested in him, too: her eyes kept glancing over at him, looking curious and intrigued, if not a bit frustrated. But she didn't approach him, didn't sit near him…didn't even smile or wave at him.

There were definitely mixed signals.

They all parted that night for their own beds, each one just as excited as the next to find themselves blissfully asleep.

When Beau came down in the morning, after sleeping like a rock through the night, Hattie was already in the kitchen. He was feeling much more awake today, ruffling his still drying curls.

Hattie made them breakfast. Eventually Bella came in in time to snag a bit of food, looking more depressed today than she had yesterday. Hattie didn't make her normal chipper conversation, which was probably for the best—and Charlie was already long gone.

They once again car pooled to school. Beau was pleased to find that, though the clouds were dense and opaque, it wasn't raining yet. It was very tempting not to grab his umbrella, but he groaned on the way out and did so anyways—it seemed a bit like tempting fate.

School was easier, because he knew what to expect. He had English class with the girls, uncharacteristically pleased when he realized that Edythe Cullen shared this class with them. They sat as far apart as possible in the small classroom, which was probably why he hadn't noticed her yesterday. But her tousled bronze hair was hard to miss today, now that he'd been pondering her through the night.

She didn't look at him when he came in, which in itself didn't disappoint him. It was that she very deliberately didn't look at him, almost angling her body from him, pretending not to see him.

Maybe he was looking too far into things.

—x—

People didn't look at her quite as much as they did yesterday, which was a nice change. During English, a puppy-dog like boy named Mike came and sat with her—she remembered his face from her Biology class, and even Gym. He walked with her to her next class, Chess-Club Eric glaring at them the whole way; that was nattering.

At lunch she sat together with a big group of people that included Mike, Eric, Jessica, and even more people she now recognized. Beau and Hattie were promptly on time, though Hattie refused to look at Jessica.

But though it was easier, it was still worse than yesterday. She was tired, still not being able to sleep with the wind and the rain echoing through the loft. Mr. Varner called on her in Trig even though her hand wasn't raised, and she had the wrong answer.

It was miserable because she had to play volleyball, and the one time she didn't cringe out of the way of the ball, she knocked Hattie in the head with it.

And it was worse because Edward Cullen wasn't in school at all.

All morning she had dreaded lunch, fearing his bizarre glances. Part of her wanted to confront him, demand to know what his problem was. When she was laying sleepless in bed she even pictured what she'd say to him. But Bella knew herself too well: she'd never have the guts to do it.

But when she walked into lunch with Jessica—trying to keep her eyes from sweeping the room for him, and failing entirely—she saw that his five siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table, and he was not with them.

Even as Mike intercepted them, steering them to his table, she waited nervously for him to arrive. Jessica seemed elated at the attention, and her friends joined them, but Bella was too anxious. Their easy chatter did nothing to cool her nerves. She was uncomfortable, wondering if he would simply ignore her when he arrived and prove her suspicions false.

He didn't show up, though, and as time passed Bella became more and more tense.

Mike, who was taking on the qualities of a golden retriever, walked faithfully by her side to biology. She had grown more and more confident during lunch, but when she entered the classroom she still held her breath. But Edward Cullen wasn't there, either.

She exhaled and went to her seat, Mike following along. He was talking easily about an upcoming beach trip and lingered by her desk until the bell rang. Then he smiled wistfully at Bella and went to sit by his lab partner, behind Hattie.

Bella felt she'd have to do something about Mike, and it wouldn't be easy. In a small town like this, where everyone lived on top of each other, diplomacy was essential. She'd never been enormously tactful; she had no practice dealing with overly friendly boys.

She was secretly relieved to have the desk to herself, that Edward was absent. She told herself this repeatedly, but couldn't get over the nagging suspicion that she was the reason he wasn't there. It was ridiculous and egotistical, Bella thought, to think she could have such an affect on someone. It was impossible.

And yet she couldn't help wondering if it were true.

When school was finally done, and the blush was fading out of her cheeks after her volleyball incident, Bella changed quickly back into her jeans and navy-blue sweater. She met up with Hattie, apologizing profusely even as the girl laughed it off, and then they headed out—successfully avoiding Bella's retriever friend for the moment.

The parking lot was crowded with fleeing students. Bella and Hattie got in the car, set to wait for Beau to join up with them. Hattie was digging through her bag for her phone.

"Oh, hey," Hattie murmured, looking over at Bella. "Did you happen to grab the grocery money?"

"I think Beau did," Bella responded. She could see Hattie's phone screen from this angle—it was a text from someone called JAKE . _"finished reading ur book. pretty rad. what's next?"_

"Good, do you mind if we stop at the store before heading home?" Hattie asked distractedly, clicking away a response on her phone. "We're getting pretty low on groceries."

Someone tapped on the window and Hattie glanced up, unlocking the door for Beau. Then they reversed carefully into the line of cars queuing to exit the parking lot.

As they waited, Beau and Hattie chatting about something that happened in art class, Bella tried to pretend she was anywhere else. She noticed the Hale twins, and the three Cullens, getting into a car—it was the shiny Volvo. Of course.

She hadn't noticed their clothes before, she'd been too mesmerized by their faces. Now that she looked, it was obvious they were all dressed exceptionally well: simply, but in clothes that subtly hinted at designer origins.

With their remarkable good looks, the style with which they carried themselves, they could've worn dish rags and pulled it off. It seemed excessive for them to have good looks _and _money.

That was just the way life worked sometimes, though. Besides, it hadn't seemed to bring them any acceptance here.

Bella didn't quite accept that—the isolation must be their desire. She couldn't imagine any door that couldn't be opened with that level of beauty.

The Thriftway wasn't that far from school, and the large building was a reprieve for Bella. It was big enough that she couldn't hear the rain tapping away outside.

She did the shopping at home and fell easily into the familiar routine, debating with Hattie on which produce seemed the freshest and what was the best deal. When they got home, Bella decided to help her cousin prep dinner—it was something she liked doing, and another familiarity she hadn't enjoyed since coming to Forks.

Afterward she went and changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulling her hair into a pony tail, and joined Hattie and Beau at the table doing homework. Before starting, though, she opened the email app on her phone.

She had three starred messages—why her mom didn't just text her was beyond Bella's imagination. She'd get a faster response that way.

_Bella, _Renee wrote. _Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me all about your flight. Is it raining? I miss you two already. I'm almost finished packing for Florida, but I can't find my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi. Mom._

The second was timestamped eight hours after the first.

_Bella, _she began again. _Why haven't you e-mailed me? What are you waiting for? Beau already wrote back. Mom._

The last was from this morning.

_Isabella, if I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today, I'm calling Charlie. _

Bella glanced at the time idly. She still had an hour left, but Renee was well-known for jumping the gun.

_Mom,_

_ Calm down. I'm writing now. Don't do anything rash._

_ Bella._

After sending it, she began a new email, rolling her eyes. Of course Beau had written Renee as soon as they landed—he was a momma's boy. Bella was close to her too, but not to the extent that Beau was.

_Mom, _

_ Everything is great. Of course it's raining, it's Forks. I was just waiting for something to write about._

_ School isn't bad, just repetitive. Beau and I only share a couple classes, but it's alright. I met some nice kids in my other classes. _

_ Your blouse is at the dry cleaner's. You were supposed to pick it up Friday._

_ I'm sure Beau already told you, but Charlie bought us a truck. Can you believe it? It's old, but really sturdy, which is good, you know, for me. We haven't gotten to drive it yet though. We carpool with our cousin to school to save gas._

_ I miss you too. I'll write again soon—you know I'd message back faster if you just texted me, right? I'm not checking my email every five minutes. Relax, breathe._

_ I love you._

_ Bella._

Hattie was putting the steak on to broil when Charlie came in. He must've smelled the food, because he called, "Hattie? Kids?"

_Who else? _Bella thought.

"In here, dad," Beau called, sounding amused. "Welcome home."

"Thanks." He hung up his gun and stepped out of his boots as Bella continued scratching out her homework.

As far as she was aware, he'd never shot the gun on the job. But he kept it ready. When they were younger, he'd always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. She guessed he considered them old enough now not to shoot themselves on accident, and not depressed enough to do it on purpose.

"What's for dinner?" he asked Hattie as he wandered in, ruffling Beau's hair along the way. He kissed Hattie's head when he made it to her, but left Bella well enough alone—which she was grateful for. "Aren't you a buncha studious kids. Good on you."

"Steak and potatoes," Hattie answered cheerfully. "Good day at work?"

They chatted quietly as Bella began tossing a salad for dinner. Beau took this as his cue to clear the table, stacking all their textbooks on the counter instead.

The family sat down together around the table, eating quietly for a little bit. None of them were bothered by the silence, it wasn't uncomfortable. In some ways, they were well-suited for living together.

"So, how did you like school? Make any friends?" Charlie asked them conversationally as he was taking seconds.

Hattie looked up, curiously, too.

Beau started talking first. "School was fine. I have almost all my classes with Hattie, so I never get lost. I haven't really made any friends, but everyone is really nice."

"Yeah, everybody seems pretty nice," Bella agreed after a moment, thinking, _with one outstanding exception_. "I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica, and we all sit with her and her friends at lunch. And there's this boy, Mike, who's very friendly."

"That must be Mike Newton," Charlie commented. "Nice kid—nice family. His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside town. He even taught Hattie to drive and found her a car."

"Yeah, the Newtons are great," Hattie agreed. "But sometimes over friendly."

It might've just been her imagination, but Bella thought she saw Hattie smiling slyly at her.

"Do you know the Cullens?" Bella asked hesitantly. She didn't know if Hattie had a problem with anyone discussing them, or if it was a Jessica problem.

"Dr. Cullen's family? Sure. Dr. Cullen's a great man," Charlie said.

"I didn't know you knew the Cullens," Hattie piped in. "You never said anything."

"Most people seem to think the kids are a little weird," Beau added, sounding just as hesitant as Bella had. "They don't seem to fit in very well at school."

Charlie surprised Bella by looking angry, and she could see that that pleased Hattie.

"People in this town," he muttered. "Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets here," he continued, getting louder. "We're lucky to have him—lucky his wife wanted to live in a small town. He's an asset to the community, and all those kids are well-behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they moved in with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they're all very mature—I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some of the folks who've lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should—camping trips every other weekend…Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk."

It was the longest speech she'd ever heard Charlie make. He must feel strongly about whatever people were saying. Bella could see from the look on Beau's face that he was just as surprised as she was. But Hattie seemed to puff up happily, like a little bird.

"That's what I told that Jessica girl," Hattie grumbled. "People are just jealous of them."

"Yeah, they seem nice enough," Bella backpedaled. "I just noticed they keep to themselves. They're all very attractive."

Beau was nodding along, seeming lost in his own little world—he probably had a crush on one of them, knowing her brother.

"You should see the doctor," Charlie said, laughing. "It's a good thing he's happily married. A lot of the nurses have a hard time focusing on their work with him around."

They lapsed back into silence easily as they finished eating. Hattie was the first to depart that night, leaving the dishes behind—but she had cooked, so Bella was happy to do the dishes as Beau cleared the table.

That night it was finally quiet. Bella fell asleep quickly, exhausted.

—x—

Hattie, on the other hand, was having trouble sleeping. She sat at her desk, letters spread out before her.

Technically, she was supposed to burn them once she was finished reading them. It was a safety mechanism she'd never questioned until now, cut off from her world as she was. But now, she was having a hard time bringing herself to do it.

She'd already held onto them longer than she should have. She was sure to keep them with her, so there was no risk of them falling into the wrong hands…but to be honest, Hattie wasn't that worried.

She'd been in Forks for six weeks and had yet to run into a single hint of magic. Hattie was more sensitive to it than a lot of her people, since she was trained windlessly—many of the new generation were more sensitive. There was a lot of aura readers (ones who could sense much more than Hattie), and most of the kids Hattie's age could sense the magic surrounding them. It came with the territory of learning wandlessly: you had to feel the magic to use it, after all.

Only a few of her acquaintances had been able to write. Luna Lovegood wrote about nargles in Ottery St. Catchpole, and her worry on how to clear them out before there was an infestation. Hattie had long since learned that you had to read between the lines with Luna, and gathered that the war was coming ever closer to the village her friends lived in.

Ginny Weasley wrote that her brother, Bill, had gotten married. She spent nearly four inches of parchment describing the wedding, even though from the sound of it, it was tiny and private. She also waxed poetic about a muggle girl in the village, and how she was thinking about getting a job at the local Co-Op now that Bill was moving out.

Hermione sent along a small letter about her acceptance into a highly esteemed university. Hattie was thrilled for her friend, though Hermione seemed reluctant to move on from McGonagall. "It fear it all might one day seem a dream," Hermione said, "Were I to move on in the muggle world and never pursue a mastery. I know logically that most of our people think there is no future in the wizarding world…I can't believe that. One day I might have children like me, and the thought that they will only ever experience the secrecy and terror that I have felt these last eleven years—it haunts me. I never want to forget the things McGonagall has taught me. Recently there've been rumors throughout the community about a rebel group called the Order of the Phoenix. A few of our acquaintances are supposedly running it. I'm thinking about seeing what I can offer them."

Lastly, Neville Longbottom wrote her. He was a sweet boy. His Gran had tried to set them up, once upon a time—she wasn't one of the few people privy to Hattie's true identity, but Augusta Longbottom was impressed with the power Hattie held. It wasn't that Hattie disliked Neville, just that dating a wizarding boy would have been too stressful. Constant worry about his safety, always having to lie about her identity, never being able to meet up regularly.

Neville wrote about the past. He seemed nostalgic for the one time all of her friends had gathered—a celebration. Hattie could remember it like it was yesterday. Even with everything that came after it, she too was nostalgic for those summer days. This was before they realized how dangerous it was to meet up in large groups, before they started hearing word of the regime being able to track magical hotspots.

And what's a bigger magical hotspot than a group of fourteen young wizards and their teachers?

But it was a celebration of life. Hattie was young then, maybe eleven, not privy to the goings-on of the rebellion. She'd known Severus and McGonagall conspired a lot (a reason she knew Hermione better than some of the other muggleborn wizards), but she hadn't known they'd been actively taking out members of the regime. "Death Eaters," they called themselves.

On this particular summer day, the sun glinted low in the sky by the time they'd all gathered. They were celebrating the birth of Cedric Diggory's new sibling, a tiny witch called Cecelia. Hattie still kept a picture of the two siblings pressed between the pages of one of her grimoires.

The birth of a wizard was more sacred these days than any other: many families were too scared, too uncertain of the future, to bring new life into the world. Cecelia was revered, a new hope: proof that even in the darkest times, those who were strong could continue pushing for light.

Unbeknownst to Hattie, there was more going on. Professor and McGonagall were waiting on news of an infiltration, whispering in low tones to Amos and the other adults. But she never knew at that point. She could see herself, like a snapshot, in the moments before the news came: her hair loose, wild around her head, laughing with the other children. The sun kissed their honeyed cheeks and they lounged, carefree, together.

Many of them had met that day for the first time, and many had met for the last time.

Professor got a message from one of the rebels in that second, and it was as if all the children could sense the dramatic turn of events. Hattie's perfect snapshot, her laughing face, suddenly snapped. Everyone was panicking. The infiltration had failed—the rebel was captured. The regime was coming.

They all had enough forewarning to leave, as quickly and quietly as they came. Nobody from the celebration was harmed that day. Hattie later found out the scene of their celebration was ransacked for any information, but they were too used to secrecy: nothing of importance was left behind.

"That day was perfect," Neville wrote nostalgically. "The first half. Cecelia, and all of us together for the first time. Sometimes I think about the Diggorys. In a way they strengthened our spirits in a way nothing else could. I haven't seen Cecelia since that day, though she must be five or six by now—she'll never know Cedric, not how we did. And now her father... And the second half, well, it was a reminder we all needed. Never let your guard down, not even for happiness, not even for the slightest second. Hattie, I miss you."

Hattie traced the script of Neville's letter and fought back tears. She'd written replies for her other friends already, but the trashcan in her bedroom was full of crumpled letters meant for Neville.

That night, she cried herself to sleep for the first time since coming to Forks. Her dreams were littered with the faces of her friends—some she hadn't seen in years. In the background of every scene she could hear Professor repeating the words of his letter to her: "Be diligent. I will contact you if anything changes."


	8. Chapter 8

_Follows the second 2/3 of Twilight: 2_

* * *

**08.**

_Some days seem to fit together like a stained glass window. A hundred little pieces of different color and mood that, when combined, create a complete picture. ―Maggie Stiefvater_

* * *

The rest of the week was uneventful.

They got used to their classes. By Friday, Bella was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school. In gym, the kids on her team learned not to pass her the ball and to quickly step in front of her if the other team tried to take advantage of the weakness. She happily stayed out of their way.

Edward Cullen didn't come back to school.

Every day, she watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria without him. Then she could relax and join the lunchtime conversation.

Mostly it centered around a trip to the La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Mike was putting together. Hattie was going, seeming to vibrate with pent up excitement whenever it was mentioned. Bella and Beau were invited, of course, and had agreed to go more out of politeness than desire. Beaches should be hot and dry, in her opinion.

By Friday she was perfectly comfortable entering her biology class with Hattie, no longer worried that Edward would be there. For all she could guess, he had dropped out of school. She tried not to think about him, but couldn't totally suppress the worry that she was somehow responsible for his continued absence—ridiculous though it seemed.

Her first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, a creature of habit, fished most of the weekend—he invited them along, but Beau and Bella had no desire. Hattie had just waved him off, telling him, "Not this time."

Bella cleaned, got ahead on her homework, and wrote Renee another bogusly cheerful email.

One thing of note was her first drive in her new truck. She took it to the library, which had been an abysmal experience. It was so poorly stocked she didn't even bother getting a library card—she'd have to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good bookstore.

But the truck was great. It was old, and _loud, _the engine roaring to life when she turned the key in the ignition. By some miracle, the radio worked—a plus that Bella had not expected. The cab had an old-car-smell; like peppermint and tobacco and gasoline. It wasn't entirely unpleasant. It puttered along nicely on the road, though the gas mileage was pretty lacking. (She rethought Seattle, and then wondered if Hattie would go with her.)

When Bella complained of the lack of choices at the library, Hattie had offered up her own (still small, still lacking) library. It was mostly young adult fiction, not Bella's usual cup of tea, but she couldn't complain much.

The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so Bella was able to sleep pretty well.

Hattie acted strangely melancholy all weekend, reading and rereading a sheaf of loose, thick paper. Beau had caught Bella before she could ask about it, shaking his head warningly. Later they discussed that it was from her friends back home, and Bella could understand how that might make someone melancholy.

People greeted them in the parking lot Monday morning. Bella didn't know most of their names, but she waved back and smiled at everybody.

It was colder that morning, but happily not raining.

In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by her side. They had a pop quiz, but it was straight-forward and easy—though Beau seemed to struggle with it.

All in all, Bella felt more comfortable than she could have imagined at this point. More comfortable than she could have imagined ever feeling in Forks.

When they walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. She could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. Bella detested the snow—it bit at her cheeks, her nose.

Hattie was pretty excited about it though. As she and Beau headed in the opposite direction, the girl was bouncing around like an over-excited puppy.

"Wow," Mike said. "It's snowing!"

Bella looked at the little cotton fluffs that were swirling past her face, building up on the sidewalk.

"Ew," she muttered. There went her good mood.

Mike looked surprised. "Don't you like snow?"

"No, that just means it's too cold for rain. Besides, I thought it was supposed to come down in flakes—you know, each one unique and all that. These look like the ends of Q-tips."

"Haven't you ever seen snow fall before?" he asked incredulously.

"Sure I have." She hesitated. "On TV."

While Mike laughed, a big, squishy ball of snow hit the back of his head. They both turned to see where it came from—Bella had her suspicions about Eric. He was walking away, back toward them, in the opposite direction of his next class. Mike apparently had the same notion, because he was already scraping up a pile of the white mush.

Bella quickly bid her adieus—she didn't want to be around while the wet stuff was flying. Mike didn't mind, too intent on his paybacks.

Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow. Apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year.

Bella kept her mouth shut—sure, it was drier than rain…until it melted in your socks.

She walked to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish, on high alert. Mush balls were flying everywhere. She kept a binder in her hands as a makeshift shield, which Jessica though was hilarious. Something in Bella's expression kept Jessica from lobbing a snowball at her, though.

Mike caught up to them as they walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting the spikes of his hair. He and Jessica talked animatedly about the snow fight as they got in line to buy food.

Out of habit, Bella glanced toward that table in the corner—and froze where she stood. There were six people at the table.

She looked down, her ears hot—she had no reason to feel self-conscious, and yet…

Jessica was trying to get her attention, asking her what she wanted, but Bella couldn't be bothered anymore. She just felt sick. Instead, she walked slowly to their own table, sitting down heavily next to Beau.

"You okay?" her diligent twin asked, moving to feel her forehead. "You look pale."

Hattie was also looking concerned, her too-bright eyes flickering over Bella's features. Apparently finding nothing indicating sickness, Hattie unpacked her lunch and slid over some baked chicken.

"You didn't eat much breakfast today," the smaller girl explained. "Share my food, please."

The concern made her feel a little bubbly, so she did as was requested. As she chewed the chicken slowly, her stomach churned.

Twice Mike asked, from down the table, with unnecessary concern, if she was feeling alright. Beau and Hattie made excuses for her, to which Bella was extraordinarily grateful. Though she did wonder if she should play it up a little—escape to the nurse for the next hour.

Ridiculous. She shouldn't have to run away—she'd done nothing wrong. Bella decided to permit herself a glance at the Cullen family's table. If he was glaring at her, she would skip biology like the coward she was.

She looked from under her lashes at first, inconspicuously, but none of them were looking her way. She lifted her head a little. They were laughing.

Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow. Even Edythe hadn't escaped. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them.

They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else—only they looked more like a scene from the movie than the rest of the school.

Aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different about them. She couldn't quite pinpoint what the difference was. She examined Edward the most carefully. He was less pale, perhaps—flushed from the snow fight maybe—the circles under his eyes less noticeable. She pondered, staring, trying to isolate the change.

"Bella, what are you staring at?" Jessica asked. Hattie and Beau both looked over at her, too.

At that precise moment, Edward's eyes flashed over to hers. She dropped her head, letting her hair cover her face—but she was sure, in that moment, that he didn't look harsh or unfriendly as he had the last time she'd seen him. He looked merely curious, unsatisfied in some way.

Hattie hummed curiously. "Edward Cullen is staring at you."

"He doesn't look angry, does he?" Bella demanded of her cousin.

"No," Hattie decided, glancing up under her eyelashes as well—looking the perfect spy. "Frustrated, maybe. Curious. Should he be angry?"

"I don't think he likes me," Bella confided. She still felt queasy, so she laid her head down on her arm.

"I think that they're just shy," Beau offered. "They all seem sort of distant and stand-offish. I wouldn't take it personally."

"But he is still staring at you," Hattie offered. "Or Beau, but for some reason I don't think that's the case."

"Stop looking at him," Bella hissed.

"He can't tell," Hattie told her, shrugging. But she looked away anyways.

Mike interrupted then, planning an epic blizzard blowout in the parking lot after school. Bella and Beau shared a long, pained glance, and even Hattie grimaced at the idea. They'd have to hide in the changing room after gym, until the parking lot was clear.

For the rest of lunch hour Bella made sure to keep her eyes on her own table. She'd decided to honor the bargain she'd made with herself—Edward Cullen hadn't looked angry, so she'd be going to biology. Her stomach didn't frightened flips at the thought of sitting next to him again.

Bella walked with Hattie to class as usual, trying to avoid Mike's puppy-dogging. He seemed to be a popular target for snowball snipers. But as they exited the doors, everyone else seemed groaned in unison—it was raining. The snow was washing away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway.

She put her hood up, secretly pleased.

When they got to biology, Bella saw with relief that her table was still empty. Mr. Banner was passing out microscopes and a boxes of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation.

Bella heard clearly when the chair next to her moved, but her eyes stayed focused on her notebook, where she was doodling.

"Hello," said a quiet, musical voice.

She looked up, stunned that he was speaking to her. He was still sitting as far away as the desk would allow, but his chair was angled toward her. His hair, dripping wet and disheveled, didn't take away from the fact that he looked like he'd just shot a commercial. His dazzling face was open, friendly, a slight smile on his lips—but his eyes were careful.

"My name is Edward Cullen," he continued. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan."

Her mind was spinning—had she made the whole thing up? He was perfectly polite now. She had to speak, he was waiting, but she couldn't think of anything conversational to say.

"H-how do you know my name?" she stammered.

He laughed a soft, enchanting laugh.

"Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town has been waiting for you to arrive."

Bella grimaced—though she'd expected the answer, it was unsatisfactory. Between the buzz of Charlie's niece coming to stay with him and the buzz of his estranged twin children, she was sure there was a huge commotion surrounding her arrival.

"No," she persisted stupidly. "I meant, why did you call me Bella?"

He seemed confused. "Do you prefer Isabella?"

Her heart thumped hard in her chest at the sound of her name on his lips.

"No, I like Bella," she said. "It's just that Charlie—my dad—must call me Isabella behind my back. That's what everyone seems to know me as."

Her awkward explanation seemed to confuse him even more, but he let the conversation drop. Thankfully, Mr. Banner decided to use that moment to start the class.

She tried to focus on the explanation of the lab they were doing, but it was hard. For one thing, she'd already done a basically identical lab back in Phoenix—and for two, Edward's mere presence was frazzling her brain.

"Get started," Mr. Banner instructed.

"Ladies first, partner?" Edward asked. She glanced up to see he was grinning a crooked smile so beautiful that Bella could only stare at him like an idiot. "Or I could start, if you wish." His smile had vanished; obviously he was wondering if Bella was mentally competent.

"No, I'll go ahead," she said, flushing. He seemed to shift in his chair, but motioned her toward the microscope.

She was showing off a little—since she'd done this lab, she knew how to set it up already. Bella snapped the slide in carefully, adjusting the microscope to the correct setting. It was pretty easy to identify.

"Prophase," she told him confidently.

"Do you mind if I look?" Edward asked. His hand caught hers to stop her from removing the slide. It was ice cold, like he'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn't why she jerked her hand away so quickly. When he touched her, it stung as if an electric current had just passed through them.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately. But he still went for the microscope—he identified it quicker than Bella had, writing _prophase _in a neat, elegant script on their worksheet.

Passing the microscope back and forth, both checking the other's work, they finished before anyone else was near done. Bella could see Mike and his partner comparing two slides over and over again. One group had their book open under their table. Across the room, Hattie was explaining to Angela that one slide was absolutely metaphase—even though the other girl seemed hopelessly lost.

She was left with nothing to do but try not to stare at Edward…unsuccessfully. When she looked up, _he_ was staring at _her_, that same inexplicable look of frustration in his eyes. Suddenly, Bella identified the difference in his face.

"Did you get contacts?" she blurted.

He seemed puzzled by her unexpected question. "No."

"Oh," she mumbled. "I thought there was something different about your eyes."

He shrugged and looked away.

Even with his blatant denial, Bella was sure there was something different about his eyes. She remembered vividly the dark color: black, like coal, striking against his pale skin. Today, his eyes were a strange, light color—ocher, darker than butterscotch, but with the same golden tone. She didn't understand how that could be, unless he was lying for some reason about the contacts.

Or maybe Forks was making her crazy in the literal sense of the word.

When Bella looked down, Edward's hands were clenched back into fists. She decided to let it go.

Mr. Banner came around eventually and told Edward off for not allowing her the opportunity to learn. Edward defended her—she _had _identified over half the slides, after all. Bella had to sheepishly explain that she'd done the lab before, with whitefish blastula instead of onion root.

After he left, Edward began trying to make small-talk.

"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?"

Paranoia swept over Bella—it was like he'd overheard her conversation at lunch with Hattie and Beau and was trying to prove her wrong.

"Not really," she responded honestly. She wouldn't pretend to be normal just to please him.

"You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question.

"Or the wet," Bella confirmed.

"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," Edward mused.

"You have no idea…" she muttered darkly.

—x—

Bella Swan was a true mystery to Edward. Last week, when she passed him on her way to Mr. Banner's desk and he'd caught her scent…he had nearly lost himself. Everything around him ceased to exist—his gaze narrowed in on her slight, pale form. He'd been rude.

Better for her to think he hated her than have her dead, though.

He spent the entire hour alternately convincing himself not to kill her and thinking up a hundred different ways he could. He wasn't oblivious to her distress. The more he glared, the harder her heartbeat pounded—the harder it became for him to stay near her.

He left the room, barely remembering to stay within the frame of human limitation. He went to his sister first, needing her to calm him. They'd had the entire conversation in their heads: her telling him that he was fine, comforting him, that he was _strong _and _willful. _That no human girl could best him. Then he would tell her that she couldn't possibly understand. He had nearly broken.

Edward spent most of the week in Alaska, hunting freely. His family had called him frequently, each trying to convince him to come home. Even Edythe couldn't get through to him, though.

It was Esme who broke him in the end, and thus he was back here again—but even having freshly hunted, sitting next to Bella Swan was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Her face was an open book, but her mind not so much. It was a frustration to him. He was so used to having access to every fleeting thought—even Edythe was beginning to get frustrated. They'd never come across anyone who they couldn't hear.

But that was before the Swan twins.

Beaufort—Beau—was just as bad. Edward knew Edythe had taken an interest in him, and she was under the impression that she just had to crack his brain open—metaphorically. He'd watched her puzzle him out from afar, concentrating solely on gaining access to his thoughts.

Edward was trying a different route.

He was utterly _fascinated _by her. From the way she looked—breathtaking in the way no human should be allowed to be—to the way she spoke, the way she walked. Her quiet disposition had him aching to know more about her.

Even Edythe thought this was a bad idea, but he couldn't help it.

"Why did you come here, then?" he asked, eyes flickering across the girl's face in curiosity.

She was surprised. Edward didn't think anybody had asked her that question before.

"It's…complicated," she told him.

"I think I can keep up," he pressed, the longing to know everything about her making him even more intense than usual.

She hesitated for a long moment, and he wasn't sure he'd get his answer. Then she glanced up, meeting his gaze. Something in his face must have changed her mind.

"My mother got remarried."

"That doesn't sound so complex," Edward disagreed. He was surprised by the sympathy he felt. She looked sad, and he didn't like the idea that a strange new man had ousted her from her home. "When did that happen?"

"Last September." Bella's voice was down-trodden. Her eyes were heavy with sadness.

"And you don't like him," he surmised, trying to be gentle. He didn't know why he kept making assumptions. He was just so used to the knowledge his skills gave him that guessing felt better than not knowing.

"No, Phil is fine," Bella disagreed. "Too young, maybe, but nice enough."

He was lost now. If she liked the step-father, why didn't she just stay with them? He pondered this aloud, invested in her life story.

"Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living," Bella told him. Her half-smile caused his lips to twitch as well.

Edward began wracking his brain for all the baseball players he knew with the name Phil—there were too many for him to narrow down.

"Have I heard of him?" he asked instead, smiling unconsciously.

"Probably not. He doesn't play _well. _Strictly minor league—he moves around a lot."

Ah—finally. To the bottom of it. "And your mother sent you here so she could travel with him." A selfish move, if understandable.

But Bella's chin raised defiantly. "No, she did not send us here. We sent ourselves."

He could feel his eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand," he said honestly. He was frustrated by this…not being able to read her was driving him insane.

He heard her sigh. Now she sounded frustrated too, but he was curious still.

"She stayed with Beau and I at first," Bella began. "But she missed Phil. She was unhappy, and Beau and I could tell. So we decided to spend some quality time with Charlie. It worked out perfect that our cousin happened to be here, too."

Her cousin. Hattie. Another frustrating teenager—perhaps, in some ways, more frustrating than the Swan twins. Edward ran his hand through his tousled hair. Sometimes he wondered if Hattie was entirely sane. Her mind wasn't _closed _to him, necessarily, just…_jumbled. _Or staticky, maybe. He couldn't make sense of anything within it, it was sort of muted, like it was underwater. Every once in a while he could hear a clear statement: right now, for example. _…letter…Edward…unhappy. _He'd thought at first he could add the statements up and they'd make sense, but they never did. What letter, what did it have to do with Edward, who was unhappy?

Most of the time he just tuned her out. Edythe had made a game of it though. She'd been frustrated when the more she tried to understand Hattie's thoughts, the harder it became—static gave way to high pitched white noise, alarms possibly, and the uncanny feeling of danger.

He shook himself back into the present, staring at Bella. "But now you're unhappy," he pointed out.

"And?" she challenged.

"That doesn't seem fair."

She gave a laugh that was entirely too bitter for a girl like Bella. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life's not fair."

They bantered some more back and forth—Bella seemed insistent on playing the martyr. Even though she was unhappy, she stayed here to allow her mother to be happy.

"Why does it matter to you?" Bella finally asked, sounding irritated.

He hesitated—this was a question he'd asked himself a thousand times. "That's a very good question," he responded, almost to himself.

—x—

Beau, Hattie, and Bella gathered in the gymnasium as the majority of one team—which was pretty easy as nobody else was brave enough to have the Swans on their team. Mike was also on their team, and between him and Hattie they managed to cover all of the positions.

The rain was a mist as Hattie and Bella walked to the car. Hattie jiggled around with the keys and managed to get the heat roaring before too long as they relaxed, waiting for Beau to join them.

"Edward Cullen was pretty nice to you today," Hattie commented, flicking through her phone. "Big turnaround from last Monday."

Bella found herself blushing, as if she were on trial. "Yeah, I guess so. Maybe you were right and he was in pain or something."

Hattie hummed idly, tapping out a text. Bella caught sight of a lone figure, three cars down from her. Edward Cullen, still and white against the hood of his Volvo—staring intently in her direction.

Beau joined them and Bella urged her cousin to exit the lot. The usually speedy girl seemed sloth-like to Bella, who wanted to get away from Edward's burning gaze.

As they peeled away, Bella could've sworn she saw him laughing.


	9. Chapter 9

_Follows the storyline of Twilight: 3_

_***Slightly darker take on the accident-more notes on this at the bottom**_

* * *

**09.**

"_It's gonna be okay," I said. It was the first time in a long time that I believed it. "It will." ―Sarah Dessen_

* * *

When she opened her eyes in the morning, something was different.

It was the light. It was still the grey-green light of a cloudy day in the forest, but it was clearer somehow. Bella realized there was no fog veiling her window.

She jumped up to look outside and groaned in horror.

A fine layer of snow had covered the yard, dusting the top of her truck, Hattie's car, and the road. But that wasn't the worst part. All the rain from yesterday had frozen solid, coating the needles on the trees in fantastic, gorgeous patterns, and making the driveway a deadly ice slick. Bella had enough trouble not falling down when the ground was dry; it might be safer for her to go back to bed now.

Charlie had already left for work when Bella got downstairs. Likewise, her brother and cousin were waiting on her, breakfast eaten. They were discussing the English assignment and Beau was moaning about how he needed to go talk to his Chemistry teacher before classes started.

Hattie had somehow known that Bella was going to be running late, because there was a plate set full of still-warm breakfast. Bella gratefully gulped it down. She was excited to go to school, and that scared her. She knew it wasn't the stimulating environment that she was anticipating—nor was it her new set of friends. If she was being honest with herself, she knew that she was eager to get to school because she would see Edward Cullen.

And that was very, very stupid.

She should be avoiding him entirely after her inane, endless babbling yesterday. And she was still suspicious of him; why would he lie about his eyes? She was still frightened by the hostility she sometimes felt emanating from him, and tongue-tied when she pictured his perfect face.

Bella was well aware that her league and his league were spheres that did not touch. So, she shouldn't be anxious about seeing him today.

It took every ounce of her concentration, combined with Hattie's somehow extraordinary reflexes, to make it down the icy driveway. They both made it to Hattie's small car with only a few spooky slides. They scrambled into their seats, laughing wildly as they watched Beau try to make his way down—eventually the tall boy took a fall, and as he grumbled to himself (obviously wounded only in pride), they roared even harder.

On the drive to school, Bella distracted herself from thoughts of Edward Cullen and Hattie's slow, careful driving by thinking about Mike and Eric. There was an obvious difference to how teenage boys responded to her here. She was sure she looked exactly the same as she had in Phoenix. Maybe it was that the boys there had watched her go through her awkward adolescent phases and still thought of her that way.

Or maybe it was that she was a novelty here, where novelties were few and far between.

Though Hattie didn't seem to have that problem, Bella got the feeling that the girl had somehow gotten rid of the boys: neither Eric nor Mike gave her so much as an over-friendly glance. All their correspondence with her was straight and to the point.

Possibly Bella's crippling clumsiness was seen as endearing here, rather than pathetic, casting her as a damsel in distress. Whatever the reason, Mike's puppy dog behavior and Eric's apparent rivalry with him were disconcerting. She wondered if she should take a page out of Hattie's book and somehow get rid of them.

Hattie's car seemed to have no problem with the icy roads, thanks in part to the chains Charlie had had the foresight to install. They didn't so much as fish-tail around a curve. Still, the girl drove slowly, fingers clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

When the trio arrived at school, Beau escaped the car hurriedly. He called out the same excuse about needing to talk to his chemistry teacher—his getaway was a slow but steady hobble across the icy parking lot.

Bella stood by the back corner of the car, waiting for Hattie so that they could go to class together. She felt she had more of a chance making it to English unscathed if her cousin was holding her elbow.

It was as Hattie joined her and they prepared to leave for class that the girls heard an odd sound.

It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. They both glanced up, startled.

Bella saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion, the way it did in movies. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make her brain work much faster, and she was able to absorb in clear detail several things at once.

Edward Cullen was standing four cars down from them, staring at her in horror. His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. Beau, further up the parking lot, had turned to look for the noise and upon seeing the cause, dropped his things, screaming as he began to make his way back toward them.

But of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back quadrant of Hattie's car—and the duo was standing between them. Bella didn't even have time to close her eyes, though she felt Hattie's entire body tensing up in preparation.

Just before she heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit her—but not from the direction she expected. Her head cracked against the icy blacktop, something solid and cold pinning her to the ground.

She was laying on the pavement behind the tan car Hattie had parked next to.

But she didn't have time to notice anything else—all she could see was the van, still coming.

A low oath in front of her made her aware that someone else was there, and the voice was impossible not to recognize. Two long, white hands shot out protectively, and the van shuddered to a stop before her. His large hands fit perfectly into a deep dent in the side of the van's body.

The hands moved so fast they blurred. One was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and something was dragging her, swinging her legs around like a rag doll's till they hit the tire of the tan car. A groaning metallic thud hurt her ears, and the van settled, glass popping, onto the asphalt—exactly where, a second ago, her legs had rested.

It was silent for one long second, and then the screaming began. In the sudden bedlam, Bella could hear more than one person calling for her and Hattie. But more clearly than all the yelling was Edward's low, frantic voice.

"Shit, shit, shit," he was cursing. His hands were a little shaky. "Bella, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she groaned. Her voice sounded strange to her ears, and she sat up slowly. His hands were no longer pinning her down, instead his back was to her.

"Be careful, I think you hit your head pretty hard," he warned, but his voice was tight.

Bella touched her head, which did indeed ache. She was trying to figure out what was going on, why he was still swearing in that beautiful voice of his, when she saw two thin, legging-clad legs.

Hattie.

This was when the scent of blood hit her: metallic, almost coppery. She abruptly grew nauseous, shaking herself to remain conscious. The thick red fluid was oozing through the snow, originating from Hattie's prone form.

"Oh my god," Bella realized why Edward was swearing so much, why his hands were so shaky. "Oh, my god, Edward, oh my god. Oh my god."

She was vaguely aware that she must be going into shock. Tears blurred her vision. She was shivering, partly from the cold, mostly from upset—hard shivers wracked her body as she looked at Edward, hovering over her small cousin.

"She's alive," Edward was telling her. "Bella, calm down, you're in shock. Bella, she's going to be okay."

He came toward her, using his bloodied hands to hold her face still. He forced her to meet his gaze. "Take deep breaths," he ordered. His normally honey-colored eyes were dark, nearly black. "Focus on me. Take deep breaths."

But Bella was hysterical. She shivered harder now, having a hard time focusing on anything other than the red that was slowly creeping closer to her. But the thought crossed her mind, she'd _seen _him—four cars down.

"H-how did you get here so fast?" she demanded through her shivers.

"Bella, I was standing right next to you," Edward insisted, tying his scarf around her neck. She pushed his hands away, the sight of the crusted blood making her feel even sicker.

And then they found them. Beau was at the head of the crowd, his tear-coated face taking in the scene with horror. Bella had the sudden, overwhelming urge that she _needed _him, needed him like a child needs her mother. But he couldn't get to her.

"Beau," she moaned, shifting as if she were going to try and stand up.

"Don't move!" someone shouted.

"Get Tyler out of the van!" said someone else.

There was a flurry of activity around them, and Bella tried to stand shakily. She was disoriented from all the blood and adrenaline running through her. Edward shoved her back down.

"Just stay put," he insisted.

"I'm c-c-_cold,_" Bella stuttered, wiping at her eyes. Her hands came away pink from the blood he'd deposited on her cheeks. "You were o-over there," she suddenly remembered. "By your c-car."

His soft, slightly panicked expression turned hard. "No, I wasn't."

"I saw you." All around them was chaos. She could hear the gruffer voices of adults arriving on the scene, she could see someone pulling Beau away from the scene. He was having a melt-down. Still, she held on to the argument.

She knew she was right, and he was going to admit it.

"Bella, I was standing with you and pulled you out of the way." As he said it, he unleashed the full, devastating power of his dark eyes on Bella—but he couldn't hold it long. Sorrow won out as he gazed back at Hattie again. Bella couldn't make herself look, lest she panic again at the sight of her tiny cousin's body.

She looked like a corpse.

"No," she set her jaw hard.

His eyes blazed. "Please, Bella." He sounded desperate.

"Why?" she demanded.

"Trust me," he pleaded, his soft voice overwhelming.

But she couldn't leave it be. "Promise me you'll explain everything later."

"_Fine,_" he snapped, with half-hearted exasperation.

"Fine," Bella repeated, staring down at his sullied hands.

It took six EMTs and two teachers—Mr. Varner and Coach Clapp—to shift the van far enough away from them to bring the stretchers in. Edward vehemently refused his, and Bella tried to do the same, but the traitor told them she'd hit her head and probably had a concussion. If she hadn't been so focused on watching them lay Hattie's prone form out on her stretcher, Bella probably would have died of embarrassment from the neck brace they forced her into.

It looked like the whole school was there, watching soberly as the EMTs loaded Hattie and Bella into the back of the ambulances. Edward got to ride in the front. It was maddening.

Beau had struggled himself to his feet, face covered in tears, with the help of Mike. Bella had never felt fonder of the puppy dog-like boy. Beau held onto Bella's hand like a lifeline until she waved him off to ride with Hattie.

"She needs you more," Bella told him, throat thick. "I have Edward."

To make matters worse, Chief Swan arrived before they could get her away safely.

"Bella!" he yelled in panic when he recognized her on the stretcher.

"I'm completely fine, Char—Dad," she sighed. "There's nothing wrong with me."

"Where's Hattie? Beau?" he demanded of her. His eyes were wild with a sort of panic she'd never seen on him. At Hattie's name, Bella teared back up again.

"Beau's with Hattie. He—he wasn't part of it," Bella began. "Hattie's ambulance already left. Dad—I'm scared for her."

The panic left his eyes, replaced by a dull resolution. She didn't like the look, but she was too busy with her own mental health to deal with her father's.

As he turned to consult the closest EMT for a second opinion, Bella tuned him out. She tried to get control over her emotions. In an attempt to take her mind off Hattie, she gave in to the jumble of inexplicable images churning chaotically in her head.

When they'd lifted her away from the car, she had seen the deep dent in the tan car's bumper—a very distinctive dent that fit the contours of Edward's shoulders…as if he'd braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame…

His family had, astonishingly, been absent when they cleared the wreckage—as if they had no concern for their brother's safety.

She tried to think of a logical explanation for what she'd just seen—a solution that excluded the assumption that she was insane.

Naturally the ambulance got a police escort to the county hospital. Bella felt ridiculous the whole time they were unloading her, asking open-ended, unanswered questions about Hattie. What made the whole thing worse was Edward simply glided through the hospital doors under his own power.

They put Bella in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pastel curtains. Hattie was nowhere to be seen. A nurse put a blood pressure cuff on Bella and a thermometer under her tongue.

Since no one bothered to pull the curtain to give her any privacy, she decided she wasn't obligated to wear the stupid-looking neck brace anymore. When the nurse walked away, she quickly unfastened the Velcro and threw it under the bed.

There was another flurry of hospital personnel and Bella perked up, hoping it was Hattie, but she recognized Tyler Crowley from underneath the bloodstained bandages instead. Tyler looked a hundred times worse than how Bella felt, but at least _he _was conscious.

He was staring anxiously at Bella.

"Bella, I'm so sorry!" he cried. "Where's Hattie, is she okay?"

"I'm fine, Tyler—I don't know where Hattie is. Edward said she was going to be okay, though."

As they spoke, the nurses began unwrapping his soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices across his cheek and forehead.

Her words seemed to make him feel worse, and he wailed, "I thought I was going to kill you guys! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong…" he winced as one nurse started dabbing at his face.

"You missed me," Bella said, her voice a little bitter. Somehow, she found she couldn't forgive him, though physically _she _was fine.

"How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there with Hattie, and then you were gone…"

The connotation was that Hattie was still there. Edward pulled Bella out of the way, but had left Hattie to fend for herself—a prickle of anger burst through Bella's mind.

"Edward pulled me out of the way." She said, shortly.

Tyler looked confused. "Who?"

"Edward Cullen—he was standing next to me." She had always been a terrible liar, but her blunt, angry tone was more convincing than she could've hoped for.

"Cullen? I didn't see him…wow, it was all so fast. Is he okay?"

"I guess so," Bella told him. "He's here somewhere, but they didn't make him use a stretcher."

She knew she wasn't crazy. What had happened? There was no way to explain what she saw.

They wheeled her away then, to X-Ray her head. A technician wiped the blood on her face away with alcohol pads, and she was told there was nothing wrong with her. Not even a concussion. She asked if she could leave, but the nurse said Bella had to talk to a doctor first.

When she arrived back in the ER, she could happily ignore Tyler's constant apologies and promises to make it up to her—because Hattie was there.

She was a few beds down, pale and still unconscious, and Beau was by her side. He held her hand and was hunched over her bed, wrapped in a thick orange blanket.

"He's in shock," a musical voice told her. Her eyes snapped up to meet Edward's. He was standing at the foot of her bed, looking sorrowfully at Hattie's form.

Bella glared at him. It wasn't easy—it'd be more natural to ogle—but she got the feeling he could've saved Hattie the way he'd saved her.

"Hey, Edward, I'm really sorry—" Tyler began.

Edward lifted a hand and stopped him. "No blood, no foul," he said, flashing his brilliant teeth. She and Edward both examined the outstretched hand, no doubt both remembering that it _had _been covered in blood not forty minutes ago.

He moved to sit on the edge of Tyler's bed, facing Bella. He smirked half-heartedly.

"So, what's the verdict?" he asked her.

"There's nothing wrong with me, but they won't let me go," she complained. "How come you're not strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?"

"It's all about who you know," he answered. "But don't worry, I came to spring you."

Then a doctor walked around the corner, and Bella fought not to drop her jaw. He was young, he was blond…and he was more handsome than any movie star she'd ever seen. He was pale, though, tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. From Charlie's description, this had to be Edward's father.

"So, Miss Swan," Dr. Cullen said in a remarkably appealing voice. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," she said, for the last time—she hoped.

He walked to the lightboard on the wall above her head and turned it on.

"Your X-Rays look good," he said. "Does your head hurt? Edward said you hit it pretty hard."

The doctor's cool fingers probed lightly along her skull. He noticed when she winced.

"Tender?" he asked.

"Not really." She'd had worse.

The doctor gave her the all clear, but told her to come back if she felt dizzy or had trouble with her eyesight. He recommended that she went home, but all she wanted to do was interrogate Edward and then join her family at the other end of the ER.

She hopped off the bed, too quickly, and staggered. Dr. Cullen caught her, looking concerned.

"I'm fine," she assured him. No need to tell him her balance problems had nothing to do with hitting her head.

"Take some Tylenol for the pain," he suggested as he steadied her.

"It doesn't hurt that bad," Bella insisted.

"It sounds like you were extremely lucky," Dr. Cullen said, smiling as he signed her chart with a flourish.

"Lucky Edward happened to be standing right next to me," she amended with a hard glance at the subject of her statement.

"Oh, well, yes," Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of him. Then he looked away, at Tyler.

Bella's intuition flickered; the doctor was in on it.

As soon as the doctor's back was turned, she moved to Edward's side.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" she hissed under her breath. She could see Charlie joining Hattie and Beau and wanted to talk to Edward before her father noticed her.

"Your family is waiting for you," Edward said, through his teeth.

She glanced at Dr. Cullen and Tyler.

"I'd like to speak to you alone, if you don't mind."

He glared, then turned his back and strode down the long room. She nearly had to run to keep up. As soon as they turned the corner into a short hallway, he spun around to face her.

"What do you want?" he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were cold, vacant—he was elsewhere.

Still, his unfriendliness intimidated her. Her words came out with less severity than she'd intended. "You owe me an explanation." She reminded him.

"I saved your life—I don't owe you anything."

She flinched back from the resentment in his voice. Then she rounded on him angrily. "Yeah, you saved my life, but a whole lot of good that did Hattie. Besides, you _promised._"

Her cousin's name seemed to distress Edward, but he held firm. "Bella, you hit your head—you don't know what you're talking about."

Her temper flared, and she glared defiantly. "There's nothing wrong with my head."

He glared back. "What do you want from me, Bella?"

"I want to know the truth," she said. "I want to know why I'm walking around perfectly fine and Hattie is unconscious in a hospital bed. I want to know why I'm lying for you."

"What do you think happened?" Edward asked, voice only slightly softer.

It came out in a rush.

"All I know was you weren't anywhere near me—Tyler didn't see you, either, so don't tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to crush Hattie and I both—and it didn't. And your hands left dents in the side of it—and you left a dent in the other car, and you're not hurt at all—and the van should've smashed my legs, but you were holding it up…" she could hear how crazy it sounded and couldn't continue on in that strain. She was so mad, so scared, that she could feel tears filling her eyes. She tried to force them back, but she kept remembering Hattie.

He was staring at her, half-incredulous, but also with such a tender, heartbreaking look that she couldn't stand it.

Still, he said, defensively: "You think I lifted a van off you?"

His tone questioned her sanity, but it only made her more suspicious. It was a perfectly delivered line by a skilled actor.

She nodded once, jaw tight.

"Nobody will believe that, you know." His voice held an edge of derision now.

"I'm not going to tell anybody." Each word was said slowly and punctually. She was carefully controlling her anger.

Surprise flitted across his face. "Then why does it matter?"

"It matters to me," she insisted. "I don't like to lie—so there better be a good reason why I'm doing it."

"Can't you just thank me and get over it?"

Anger tore through her again and she gave him a look that would kill a lesser man. "Thank you," she said, sarcastically.

"You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"No."

"In that case…I hope you enjoy disappointment."

They scowled at each other in silence. Bella thought of a dozen different ways to throw Hattie's condition at him, a thousand ways to try and guilt him into telling her the truth. She was the first to speak and she tried desperately to keep her focus. She was in danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel.

"Why did you even bother?" she asked, frigidly. "Why did I matter so much more than Hattie?"

He paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedly vulnerable.

"I don't know," he whispered.

And then he turned his back and walked away.

She was so angry, it took her a minute until she could move. When she could, she slowly made her way back to the ER and joined her family there.

Hattie's fragile body was even more unpleasant up close, and Bella had to swallow thickly as she neared. Charlie looked up as she approached, opening his mouth.

She put her hands up. "There's nothing wrong with me." She assured him sullenly. She was still aggravated.

"What did the doctor say?"

"Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I was fine and I could go home. I'd rather be here with you guys, though."

Charlie pulled up a chair for her, pushing her down into it. Beau was dead asleep hunched over Hattie's legs; the tear tracks were dry across his cheeks now.

"I was so scared, dad," Bella told him quietly. She wasn't used to expressing her emotions like this. "When I saw her laying there."

"She's gonna be alright," Charlie assured her. "But for the record, you two scared the crap outta me."

Bella laughed a little. "So, what'd they say about her?"

"Well she's pretty beat up, but nothing severe. A bit of road rash, but most of the blood came from a split on the back of her head. She broke her elbow. And you're gonna have to drive for a while—her car's totaled."

Bella took it all in with a nod. There had seemed to be so much blood—but in the close quarters, with all the panic that was running through her body, there probably wasn't nearly as much as she'd thought.

"Oh, and Bells? You're gonna have to call Renee."

"You _told _her?!"

Her mom was hysterical. She had to tell Renee at least thirty times that she was fine—and still her mom begged them to come home, forgetting the fact that home was empty at the moment. Her pleas were easier to resist than Bella thought they would be. She was consumed by the mystery Edward presented, and more than a little obsessed with him. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. _She wasn't nearly as eager to escape Forks as she should be, as any sane person would be.

That night Charlie drove them all home in the cruiser. Beau and Bella were stretched out in the backseat, tired despite the napping they'd done in the hospital. Hattie was tucked in the passenger seat, high as a kite on all the medicine they'd pumped into her.

Bella took three Tylenols that night and they _did_ ease the pain. She headed up to her loft, alone—Hattie was staying in Beau's room for the night, for Charlie's peace of mind. Beau looked awfully funny with his tall frame crunched up on the couch.

That was the first night Bella dreamt of Edward Cullen.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! :) If you have any questions, feel free to leave them below and I'll answer as soon as I can._  
_\- The Edward not saving Hattie thing is going to be brought up in at least a few other chapters, but mostly Hattie was hurt to bring her closer to Bella and Beau._  
_\- As for why Hattie didn't just magic herself out of the way-this is an AU where she isn't accustomed to fighting, but has been trained to hide her magic instead._  
_\- And why Edward didn't attack her... it WILL be explained in a future chapter, but it's not really a spoiler. Wizards don't smell like food to vampires (in my head, drinking wizard blood would be like eating flowers...you CAN do it, but it's not usually the tastiest thing)._

_Also, this starts an arch in the story which isn't really that long (about 6 weeks?) but it spans 12 chapters :)_  
_I started writing the New Moon portion of this story, and decided to add dates for ease. I wish I had for the Twilight portion because I would frequently forget how long it had been since an event and have to go back and recount!_


	10. Chapter 10

_Follows the storyline of Twilight: 4_

* * *

**10.**

"_What does it mean?" _

"_If she told you," Sam said, "it wouldn't mean anything."_

―_Gregory Scott Katsoulis_

* * *

_Dear Severus,_

_ I thought it pertinent that I let you know I was in an accident. I am fine now, however a bit worse for wear. A vehicle hit me on an icy day. It looked rather dramatic, but truthfully I was only minorly injured. _

_ There's a quite a large split on the back of my head, but the true issue is my broken elbow. Because it was a very public event I shall have to heal as a muggle. This will delay my business by at least several weeks._

_ I admit it would be comforting to hear from you, as the occurrence has quite shaken me. _

_ Merry part,_

_ Hattie_

—x—

The weeks that followed were rough, uneasy—and at first, embarrassing, for everyone involved.

When Hattie came down off the drugs they'd had her on, not only had she been in pain but she'd been heartbroken over the loss of her beloved car. It was totaled. The Swans' truck, with its heavy, solid frame might've been able to withstand the force of Tyler's van—but her car certainly had not been able to. The whole rear panel was smashed inward and the force of it had shattered her windshields and deployed her airbags.

When Hattie calmed from that stressor, she couldn't fathom how Bella had remained unscathed and how she was still standing. Bella had explained that Edward pulled her out of the way and the small girl wracked her brain, but couldn't remember much. She'd hit her head a _lot _harder than Bella had, as evidence by the shaved patch on the back of her head, covered with stitches.

The crash had changed something in Beau, too. He was constantly hovering over Hattie and, to a lesser extent, Bella. Sometimes when Bella came in the house whilst he was asleep she heard him having nightmares and crying their names.

Bella herself was alright. The ache in her head only lasted a couple of days. They couldn't quite move on from the effects of the accident so quickly, though. Hattie's whole arm, from her shoulder to her wrist, was in a cast. She needed help getting dressed, help carrying things, help doing simple things like putting her hair in a ponytail. Bella even took over cooking for the household whilst Hattie was out of commission.

They all returned to school the following day, though Hattie had to take it pretty slow. She ended up having to go lie down in the nurse's office when the pain in her head got to be too much.

To Bella's dismay, they quickly found themselves at the center of attention the rest of that week. Tyler Crowley was impossible. He followed her around, obsessed with making amends—when he wasn't bothering Bella, he was bothering Hattie. Beau could be seen telling him off whenever he came too close to the smaller girl, but it didn't deter him completely.

Bella tried to convince him that he should just forget about it where she was concerned—especially since nothing had actually happened to her—but he remained insistent. He made a pattern of alternately tailing Bella and Hattie between classes. Somehow, he always managed to catch Hattie when Beau wasn't around—Bella wondered if Tyler was getting someone to distract her brother.

He even made a point of sitting at their now crowded lunch table. Mike and Eric were even less friendly toward him than they were towards each other, which made Bella worry they'd gained another unwelcome fan.

Even Mike and Eric had used the accident to their advantage. Suddenly, whatever Hattie had done to get them off her tail was thrown out the window. They were accosting her after class, helping her carry her books, warming her lunch up for her. They didn't take 'no' for an answer.

Nobody seemed concerned about Edward, though Bella tried explaining that he was the hero—he'd pulled her out of the way and had nearly been crushed, too. Everyone, even Beau, always commented that they hadn't even seen him till the van was pulled away.

Bella wondered to herself why nobody else had seen him standing so far away, before he was suddenly, impossibly saving her life. With chagrin, she realized the probable cause—no one else was as aware of Edward as she always was. No one else watched him the way she did.

Possibly Hattie had seen him, but that did Bella little good. Between the huge hit she'd taken and her proceeding her unconsciousness, Hattie didn't believe most of her memories in the seconds leading up to the accident. Even if Bella tried to insist, Hattie would likely go along with anything anyone told her.

Edward was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual. The Cullens and the Hales sat at the same table as always, eating in that same, slow, peculiar way of theirs. None of them, especially Edward, looked her way anymore.

When he sat next to her in class, as far away as the table would allow, he seemed totally unaware of her presence. Only now and then, when his fists would suddenly ball up—skin stretched even whiter over the bones—did Bella wonder if he wasn't quite as oblivious as he appeared.

He wished he hadn't pulled her from the path of Tyler's van—or perhaps he regretted not saving Hattie, too. There were no other conclusions Bella could come to.

Bella wanted very much to talk to him, and the day after the accident she'd tried. The last time she'd seen him, outside the ER, they'd both been so _furious. _She was still angry that he wouldn't trust her with the truth, even though she was keeping her side of the bargain flawlessly. But he had in fact saved her life, no matter how he'd done it. Overnight, the heat of her anger had faded away with the help of her relief at Hattie's condition. Soon she was awed into immense gratitude.

He was already seated by the time Bella got to biology, laying Hattie's books on her lab table. She sat down, expecting him to turn toward her. He showed no sign that he realized she was there.

"Hello, Edward," she'd greeted pleasantly, trying to show that she was going to behave herself.

But he just turned his head a fraction of an inch and nodded once, without meeting her gaze. Then he looked the other way.

That was the last contact she had with him, though he was there—a foot away—every day.

She watched him sometimes, unable to stop herself—from a distance, though, in the cafeteria or the parking lot. Every day his golden eyes grew predictably darker. But in class, she gave no more notice that he existed than he showed toward her.

She was miserable, and her dreams of him continued.

Despite her misery, her newfound place in Forks was not quite as disheartening as she'd feared. She had a routine, a handful of friends. She was growing ever closer to Hattie, even. (This was no doubt aided by the fact that Bella helped dress the girl every day. It was hard not to bond with someone whose bra you clasped each morning.)

She lied a little bit to Renee, and despite the tenor of her emails her mother assumed Bella was depressed. She called a few times, worried, and when Bella didn't show any signs of depression Renee tried to pester Beau about it. Even he couldn't fully convince her that Bella was happy, though he tried.

Mike, at least, seemed pleased by the obvious coolness between Bella and her lab partner. He grew more confident each day, sitting on the edge of her table to talk before biology class started. He ignored Edward as completely as Edward ignored them.

—x—

Those weeks with her cast on and the stitches in her head were the hardest for Hattie. She'd never had to endure an injury this long—the folly of living closely with muggles. Her vulnerability scared her. She hated relying on her cousins and the people surrounding them for anything.

Bella was especially nice about the situation. Hattie still wasn't entirely comfortable allowing Bella to help her get dressed, but it wasn't as dreaded as it had been the first day when she _realized. _Hattie could probably figure out how to dress herself with magic, but it would be suspicious. After all, she could barely move her casted arm (the entire point of the cast) so while she might be able to wiggle a top on, there was no way she could get a bra on.

Beau tried hard to make sure Hattie was never alone, but somehow that Crowley boy kept managing to drag him off and take advantage of the situation. Hattie had told Mike and Eric off during her first week of classes and it had worked thus far, but now they were back in full force.

It was with relief that now, they split their time between her and Bella, so at least Hattie got a reprieve.

After the accident she'd sent out her letters to her friends, with new additions to Severus about her current state of being. She, admittedly, complained about having to put on the show of healing the muggle way. With X-Rays of her elbow every two weeks to ensure she didn't need surgery, she couldn't very well heal herself within the cast. Thus, she put up with the aches and pains that went along with a broken elbow.

It was only when Jacob started calling her nonstop that she realized she should talk to him, too. Apparently, Charlie had confided his worries in Billy, who informed Jacob, who panicked.

He called her the second night after her accident, talking rapidly. She'd assured him over and over that she was fine now, in very little pain (a white lie—she'd taken a pain-relieving potion). That was the first night she fell asleep on the phone with him.

It certainly wasn't the last.

The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day. The other students were disappointed at never having gotten to stage their giant snowball fight. Hattie would be happy if she never saw snow again. Now that the weather was getting warmer, Mike was continuing to plan his beach trip, which Hattie was very excited about. She hoped to surprise Jacob, whom she hadn't seen in entirely too long.

Bella complained to her on the first Tuesday in March about a tradition she'd just been informed of—the girl's choice spring dance, which was in two weeks. Hattie had never been to a dance herself, but imagining the night left her a little breathless…and irritated about being in a cast.

Clearly, though, Bella wasn't planning on going. She told Hattie it was tempting fate, trying to dance with as clumsy as she was.

Hattie wanted to go, and badly. She loved to dance, and the excuse to dress up in a pretty dress and be escorted by a handsome boy…it was like a scene out of a movie.

She wanted to feel like a princess, even if only for one night.

But Hattie resigned herself to staying home that night. She didn't want to lead anybody on, _especially _not one of her unwelcome fanboys—and there was nobody at Forks High School that she wanted to go to the dance with.

—x—

Bella was irritated.

She should've known this would happen to her. Jessica had called her on Tuesday seeking permission to ask Mike to the dance.

"You're sure you don't mind? You weren't planning on asking him?" Jessica persisted, when Bella told her she didn't mind in the least.

"No, Jess, I'm not going," Bella assured her. Dancing was, after all, out of her range of abilities.

"It will be really fun." Jessica's attempt to convince Bella was half-hearted. (Bella suspected that Jessica enjoyed her inexplicable popularity more than her actual company.)

"You have fun with Mike," Bella encouraged, instead of answering.

But the next day at school, Jessica wasn't her normal gushing self. She was silent as they walked together between classes, and at lunch she sat as far away from Mike as possible. Mike, too, was unusually quiet.

Bella found out why in biology—the uncomfortable look on Mike's face changed to resolution as they took up their usual positions. Bella was in her seat and he was perched on the edge of her desk.

"So," Mike began. Even with his resolved look, his gaze was on the floor. "Jessica asked me to go to the spring dance."

"That's great!" Bella said, trying to emulate Hattie's chirpy, cheerful tone. "You'll have a lot of fun with Jessica."

"Well…" he floundered a bit, clearly not happy with Bella's response. "I told her I had to think about it."

"Why would you do that?" Bella let disapproval color her tone, though she was relieved he hadn't given her an absolute 'no'.

"I was wondering if…well, if you might be planning to ask me."

Bella paused, hating the wave of guilt that swept through her. Why couldn't he just leave her be? She saw, from the corner of her eye, Edward's head tilt reflexively toward them.

"Mike," she said slowly. "I really think you should tell her yes."

"Did you already ask someone?" Mike asked. Did Edward notice how Mike's eyes flickered in his direction?

"No," Bella assured him quickly. "I'm not going to the dance at all."

"Why not?" Mike demanded.

Bella really didn't want to get into the hazards that danced presented, so she quickly wracked her brain for a new plan.

"I'm going to Seattle that Saturday," she explained carefully. She needed to get out of town, anyways—Hattie's book collection had been devoured and Bella needed some books that were more her speed. Plus, it might be nice to splurge on some new clothes…ones more fit for Forks' climate. Saturday started to look like the perfect time to go—she actually found herself looking forward to it. (And cursing that Hattie's car had been totaled, as she cringed to think of the gas mileage her truck got.)

"Is Hattie going with you?" Mike asked. Now that he was disappointed, he was looking for a new plan. One that _still_ didn't include Jessica.

Bella began to feel a little sorry for her friend.

"I don't know," Bella answered, wincing at throwing Hattie under the bus. "She hasn't decided yet. But you really shouldn't make Jess wait much longer—it's rude."

Mike walked dejectedly back to his seat and Bella fumbled to get her phone out. She should at least warn Hattie about the possible oncoming puppy.

**Group: THREE LITTLE SWANS**

**Bell-Bell: mike alert. **

**i told him i was going to seattle on saturday. **

**he might ask u hattie.**

**Hattie-Dearest: what?**

** why me**

**Bell-Bell: idk. jessica wants to go with him though**

** so turn him down pls**

**Beauregard: why r u going to seattle?**

**Bell-Bell: i panicked**

**Hattie-Dearest: bella EC is reading over your shoulder**

Bella clicked her screen off, face turning red. She sighed, turning to face him resignedly.

He was staring at her curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in his black eyes.

She stared back—unsurprised, since she had warning. She expected him to look quickly away. But instead he continued to gaze with probing intensity into her eyes. There was no question of her looking away. Bella's hands began to shake.

"Mr. Cullen?" the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question Bella hadn't heard.

"The Krebs Cycle," Edward responded, seeming reluctant as he turned to look at Mr. Banner.

Bella looked down at her book as soon as his eyes released hers, trying to find her place. Cowardly as ever, she shifted her hair over her shoulder to hide her face. She couldn't believe the rush of emotions running through her—just because he'd happened to look at her for the first time in a half-dozen weeks. She couldn't let him have this level of influence over her—it was pathetic.

More than pathetic, it was unhealthy.

She tried very hard to not to notice him for the rest of the hour, and, since that was impossible, at least not let him know she was aware of him. When the bell rang at last, she turned to get her things, expecting him to leave immediately as usual.

"Bella?" His voice shouldn't have been so familiar to her, as if she'd known the sound of it all her life rather than just a few short weeks.

She turned slowly, unwillingly. In her peripheral, she noted that Mike had approached Hattie—she felt guilty, but at least Hattie would have someone to take her to gym.

Her expression was weary when she finally turned to him. She didn't want to feel what she _knew _she would when she looked at his too-perfect face. When she looked at him, his expression was unreadable. He didn't say anything.

"What? Are you speaking to me again?" she finally asked, an unintentional note of petulance in her voice.

His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No, not really," he admitted.

"Then what do you want, Edward?" she asked, keeping her eyes closed. It was easier to talk to him that way. "I should be saving my cousin from Mike."

"I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really."

She opened her eyes. His face was very serious.

"I don't know what you mean," she said, guarded.

"It's better if we're not friends," he explained. "Trust me."

Her eyes narrowed. She'd heard that before—but unlike then, now she had other friends to rely on. Still, it stung a little. She was sullen when she answered.

"It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier," she hissed through her teeth. "You could've saved yourself all this regret."

"Regret?" The word, and Bella's tone, had caught him off-guard. "Regret for what?"

"For not just letting that stupid van squish me." Bella paused. "For not saving Hattie, instead."

He was astonished. He stared at her in disbelief.

When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. "You think I regret saving your life?"

"I can't think of any other reason for you to act this way," she snapped.

"You don't know anything." He was definitely mad.

She turned her head sharply away from him, clenching her jaw against all the wild accusations she wanted to hurl at him. She gathered her books, then stood to head for the door. It might be too late to save Hattie from Mike, but at least she could sweep dramatically from the room…but of course she caught the toe of her boot on the door jamb and dropped her books.

Bella stood there for a moment, debating leaving them there. Then she sighed and bent to pick them up.

He was already there; he'd already stacked them into a pile. He handed them to her, his face hard.

"Thank you," she said icily.

His eyes narrowed. "You're welcome," he retorted.

She straightened up swiftly, turned away from him again, and stalked off to gym without looking back.

Gym was brutal. Hattie had sat on the sidelines these long few weeks, unable to participate. Bella's team never passed her the ball, but without Hattie there was one less person to cover Bella and Beau's mistakes. To make things worse, every glimpse of Hattie's embarrassed face—no doubt caused by Mike's earlier attentions—threw Bella back into her irritation at Edward. She tried to concentrate on her feet, but he kept creeping back into her thoughts just when she needed balance. Thus, she fell, competing with Beau for number of falls per class.

It was a relief, as always, to leave. She changed at high speed and rushed out to her truck, leaving Beau to help Hattie today. She felt a little guilty about it, but she wanted to be alone for a moment.

She almost had a heart attack when she rounded the corner and saw a tall, dark figure leaning against the side of her truck. Then she realized it was just Eric. She started walking again.

"Hey, Eric," she called.

"Hi, Bella."

"What's up?" she said as she unlocked the door. She wasn't paying attention to the uncomfortable edge in his voice.

"Hattie's not with you?" he asked, sounding a bit disappointed.

"Ah, no," Bella turned to him. "She's coming out with Beau."

Eric nodded, still seeming uncomfortable. Then his next words caught Bella by surprise. "I was wondering if, uh, you would go to the spring dance with me?"

His voice broke on the last word, and Bella was sure she was not the Swan he meant to ask. She was just in the right place at the wrong time.

"I thought it was girls' choice," she said, diplomatically, instead of calling him out.

"Well, yeah," he admitted, shamefaced.

She covered her composure and tried to make her voice warm. "Thank you for asking me, but I'm going to be in Seattle that day. Besides—I don't think you want to go with _me_, anyways."

He looked at her sheepishly and Bella knew that she was right. Eric had always had more of an attraction to her smaller, more athletic cousin.

Sure enough, when Hattie and Beau approached, he asked her. Bella had to give him props—he had guts. Beau was even taller than Eric and asking Hattie couldn't have been easy with her two cousins on either side of her.

But she, also, turned him down. "I'm really sorry, Eric. I—I've got a date already."

Bella and Beau gave her identical, startled glances as Eric slouched away. Bella could only think that, perhaps Mike had used his opportunity well…perhaps he had convinced their cousin.

She heard a low chuckle as they sat there gaping at Hattie. Edward was walking past the truck, looking straight forward, his lips pressed together. Bella yanked the door open and jumped inside, slamming it loudly.

She would've jerked right out of the parking spot, but Beau was helping Hattie climb in and it seemed he moved at a snail's pace. When they finally got in, she reversed out into the aisle, revving the engine loudly. Edward, two spaces down, slid out smoothly in front of them, cutting her off. He stopped there—to wait for his family. She could see the five of them walking this way, but still by the cafeteria.

Bella strongly considered taking out the rear of his stupid, shiny Volvo, but there were too many witnesses. In her rearview mirror, she could see a line of cars beginning to form. Directly behind them, Tyler Crowley (in his newly acquired used Sentra) was waving wildly. Bella was too aggravated to acknowledge him.

"Man, what a dick," Beau snorted. "Oh, goody."

There was a knock on the passenger window. Beau rolled his eyes—still unfriendly toward the boy who'd nearly killed Bella and Hattie—but cranked the window down part way.

"I'm sorry, Tyler, I'm stuck behind Cullen." Bella explained. Her voice was annoyed—clearly, the holdup wasn't _her _fault.

"Oh, I know, I just wanted to ask you something while we're trapped here." He grinned.

This could not be happening.

"Will one of you ask me to the spring dance?" he continued.

"I'm not going to be in town," Bella said, sharply. She tried to remember that it wasn't his fault Mike and Eric had already used up her patience quota for the day.

"Yeah, Mike said that," Tyler admitted.

"Then why—"

He shrugged. "I was hoping you were just letting him down easy."

Okay, it was completely his fault.

"I really am going out of town," she said, trying to work down her irritation. (It wasn't working.)

"Fair," he said, grinning again. His eyes zoomed in on Hattie. "How about you, Hattie?"

The girl in question was blushing hard again, avoiding his eyes. "I sort of…have a date already," she told him.

"That's cool," he decided after a moment. "We still have prom."

And before either of them could respond, he was walking back to his car. Beau was attempting to strangle the boy with his eyes, and Bella could feel the shock on her face. She looked forward, seeing all of the Cullens sliding into the Volvo. In his rearview mirror, Edward's eyes were on Bella. He was unquestionably shaking with laughter, as if he'd heard every word Tyler had said.

Her foot twitched toward the gas pedal…one little bump wouldn't hurt any of them, just that glossy silver paint job. She revved the engine.

But they were all in, and Edward was speeding away.

As they drove home, slowly, Bella tried to take her mind off the situation. Muttering to herself wouldn't help anything. She rounded on Hattie, sitting between her and Beau on the bench seat.

"Mike asked you out?" she demanded.

Hattie looked up from her phone, confused. She was texting JAKE .

"Yeah, he did," she admitted.

"And you actually said yes?" Beau sounded sick. "He's like an overgrown puppy."

"Hey, if she likes him, then let her be happy," Bella argued. "Jeez, Beau."

"What are you guys talking about?" Hattie asked. The dark-haired girl's eyes were confused. "Is this about my date? Because I am not going with Mike. I said no."

"Then…who?" Bella's voice was thoughtful, eyebrows scrunched together.

Hattie looked away, cheeks red. Then she raised her phone a little in her hand. "I haven't actually asked him yet," she told Bella. "But I think he will say yes."

"Well, then, what are you waiting for?" Beau urged. There was a sense of realization in his eyes. "Ask him."

"Easy for you to say," snorted Hattie derisively.

Bella looked back and forth between the duo, lost. She'd been so caught up lately with her own misery—and, yes, her obsession—that perhaps she'd missed something.

Her brother's cheeks were rosy pink and he looked away, out the passenger window. "That's different."

"It is not," Hattie protested. "You are just a chicken."

"She doesn't even look at me anymore."

"Maybe she thinks you don't like her," Hattie offered. "You should ask her. I am pretty sure nobody else has."

"I was thinking about asking Angela instead," Beau said. "I just really get the feeling Edythe doesn't like me, so I'm going to give her space."

"Edythe Cullen?" Bella asked sharply. "I didn't know you knew her."

Beau nodded shyly. "Yeah, she's in my Chemistry class. We haven't talked…like, at all."

"He has a crush on her," Hattie said distractedly. She was typing out a text to JAKE .

"I do not." Beau denied, but the heat on his face told Bella differently. "Besides, even if I did, she doesn't know I exist. Or she hates me. Either way, not a good way to start a relationship. Anyways, Angela is cute—and she's tall, like me. Who knows, we might have a lot of fun together."

Hattie hummed. "Well, she does seem to like you," she amended.

Bella felt…weird. They got home, and as was tradition, spread their books across the table. They always studied together after school. One of them, lately Bella (because Beau couldn't cook, and Hattie was unable to currently) would cook dinner. When Charlie got home, they'd all dine together, chatting idly about their day.

But Bella felt a little left out. Beau had always been her best friend, the person she was closest to in the world. Now, it seemed, she'd been so full of herself that she didn't even know what was going on in his life.

Jessica called her that evening, jubilant. Mike had caught her after school and accepted her invitation. (Bella still felt guilty that Jessica wasn't just his second choice, she was his third, but she pretended to be happy for her friend.) They celebrated briefly, but Jessica had to go—she wanted to call Angela and Lauren and tell them.

Bella suggested, with casual, sly innocence, that maybe Angela could ask Beau. Her brother's face stared up at her in a mixture of horror, distress, and excitement. Then, Bella decided perhaps Lauren, a standoffish girl who always ignored them at the lunch table, could ask Tyler. And McKayla, Mike's brother and another acquaintance of theirs, could ask Eric. Jess thought this was a great idea. Now that she was sure about Mike, she actually sounded sincere when she said she wished Bella would go to the dance.

Bella gave her Seattle excuse, which felt firmer and firmer each time she used it.

When she hung up, she tried to focus on dinner. Dicing the chicken especially—she didn't need to end up in the emergency room again. Hattie and Beau were tittering in the background about an art project they were working on.

But Bella's head was spinning, trying to analyze every word Edward had spoken today. What did he mean, it was better if they weren't friends?

Her stomach twisted as she realized what that meant. He must see how absorbed she was by him; he must not want to lead her on…so they couldn't even be friends...because he wasn't interested in her at all.

Of course he wasn't interested in her, she thought angrily, her eyes stinging. She wasn't interesting—and he was.

Interesting…and brilliant…and mysterious…and perfect…and beautiful…and possibly able to life full-sized vans with one hand.

Well that was fine. She could leave him alone. She _would _leave him alone. She would spend more time with her siblings—her family, rather—and enjoy her time in Forks as much as possible. Then, when she graduated, she'd go to a university somewhere sunny. Maybe Hawaii. She forced her thoughts onto sunny beaches and palm trees as Beau began clearing the table.

Charlie ruffled Hattie's hair when he came in and cheerfully greeted them all. Bella had noticed recently that he had a huge soft spot for his niece, diligently taking time off work to run her to appointments. He was even handling all the insurance stuff for her car. He'd gotten it towed away for her, sold to a scrap yard for the price of the metal in its body.

Bella also thought that whatever soft spot he held for Hattie, whatever emotion she made him feel, helped him express himself to his own kids. He'd never been good at it. But Hattie was good practice.

"So, girls, did you ask anyone to the dance yet?" Charlie asked playfully, then turned to his son. "Beau?"

Beau spluttered. "N-nobody's asked me. But I have a feeling Hattie's friend Angela is going to."

"Hattie?" Charlie continued, looking at the smallest of the trio.

She smiled shyly, looking at him under her eyelashes. She wasn't blushing when she answered, seeming very assured of herself. "I asked Jake."

Bella and Beau's eyes both snapped to Charlie's face to see his reaction. He was very protective of his niece. But though the man's fork paused on its way to his mouth, he seemed otherwise nonplussed.

"Good for you," Charlie told her. "That boy likes ya. And he's a good kid."

"You know him?" Bella prompted, shocked. She hadn't met him, and picturing Hattie bringing home a boy to meet Charlie didn't compute.

Charlie grunted. "Mm. Jacob Black. His dad, Billy, sold me your truck. You used to play as kids."

Realization dawned on Beau's face. "Oh man, Jacob Black! I remember him. Bella, you and him made mud pies together!"

Bella didn't really remember. The name was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't put a face to it. She'd gotten good over the years at blocking out her memories of Forks, dreaded as they were. Still, she turned to Hattie, fighting down her surprise.

"He said yes, then?" Bella asked her cousin. She wondered when Hattie had found time to ask him—probably over text, Bella surmised.

Charlie chortled. "Of course he said yes. You shoulda seen 'em at Christmas. He's head over heels for her."

Now Hattie _was _blushing, giving half-hearted protests. After a few moments of teasing, Charlie finally turned to Bella.

"So how 'bout you, Bells?"

Bella shuffled awkwardly. "Oh, erm…I'm not going to the dance. I think I'm going to go to Seattle for the day instead—if that's okay?"

She didn't really want to ask permission—it set a bad precedence—but it felt rude, so she tacked it on at the end.

"Why?" he sounded surprised, as if he were unable to imagine something that Forks couldn't offer.

"Well, I wanted to get a few books—the library here is pretty limited—and maybe look at some clothes." She had more money than she was used to having, since, thanks to Charlie, she hadn't had to pay for a car. Even with the way the truck guzzled gas, the trio split the cost given they were carpooling, so it wasn't that bad.

"The truck probably doesn't get very good gas mileage," Charlie said, unknowingly echoing Bella's thoughts.

Bella explained that she knew this already, and she'd make multiple stops along the way as needed. Charlie fretted about her going by herself, then about her possibly getting lost. Then he offered to go with her.

"That's alright, Dad," she said quickly. Hattie and Beau were snickering. Bella reached out and kicked Beau, glaring at him. "I'll probably just be in dressing rooms all day—it'd be pretty boring for you."

Finally, Charlie relented, and Bella sighed in relief. She didn't want to go against her father's wishes, so it was easier that he was letting her go.

Secretly Bella thought he realized that she really didn't want to go to the dance because of her balance problems. Either way, that was her problem solved.


	11. Chapter 11

_Set during the end of Twilight: 4_

* * *

**11.**

_I guess there was a war going on somewhere in the world that night but it wasn't one that could touch us. ―Meg Roso__ff_

* * *

The following morning, Charlie took Hattie back to the doctor. She'd been going about every two weeks since she broke her elbow because they wanted to be sure it was healing properly. Hattie didn't care if she had to erase some memories—if, for some reason, they thought she needed surgery, she'd heal her elbow herself.

Hattie had to miss her first couple of classes, but it was worth it for the brief reprieve of the stupid cast.

"Good morning, Hattie, Chief Swan," Dr. Cullen said cheerfully, coming in to the room with a cast saw. This was Hattie's least favorite part of the whole situation—she didn't like the blade being anywhere near her extremities, even though logically she knew that it wouldn't hurt her. "How are we this morning? How's your head?"

He was snapping on gloves as he said it, moving to come look at the gash in her head. It was exponentially smaller than the last time he'd seen her, which Hattie knew was because her magic was slowly healing it.

"We're doin' well," Charlie grunted. He was in his work clothes, since after he dropped her off at school he'd be heading to work as well. "Be better if we could get this cast off today."

Dr. Cullen laughed that musical laugh of his. "Well, it looks like the stitches dissolved as they should. We'll cut this cast off and send her for an X-Ray and we'll know more."

He started up the cast saw, and Hattie made extra sure to stay still. He was a professional, but it was off-putting to see a saw come towards you. And once it touched the cast, she could feel the vibrations up her arm and all the way down her chest.

To be honest, Hattie knew that today wouldn't be the day she got to keep the cast off—her elbow ached. There was no way she was fully healed.

Still, it was a relief to be out of the huge, heavy cast. Her skin soaked up the fresh air, breathing for the first time in two weeks, and Hattie gratefully itched it. She'd been warned not to stick anything in the cast (not that that would've been easy anyways), because apparently some people used pencils or rulers to scratch.

And promptly lost them up in the cast.

An X-Ray technician took her back and clicked a couple of pictures. Hattie was babying her arm a little. It didn't hurt as much as the last time, when she had to use her other arm to hold it up—but having to tense her muscles to hold her arm in place still hurt a bit.

As she'd expected, Dr. Cullen decided to give it another two weeks with the cast. He wrapped it back up for her until, once again, she was immobile. This time she chose a black cast, trying to anticipate what sort of dress she'd be wearing to the dance. Hattie was frustrated that her first high school dance pictures would include the ugly thing.

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news," Dr. Cullen told her, patting her on her good shoulder. "Having the cast back on is probably the last thing you wanted."

"It's not really the most pleasant thing in the world, no," Hattie agreed. "I can only do so much with one arm."

"Hopefully we'll be able to take it off for good next time." Dr. Cullen smiled gently, and then he was signing some papers with a flourish. "You're free to get back to class now, Hattie. I'll see you in two weeks."

Charlie helped her down off the bed and guided her back to the police cruiser. Hattie yawned as she settled in for the short drive.

She hadn't been sleeping well lately. Between the pain of her elbow and the bulky cast, she could never get comfortable.

Then there was the fact that it had been five weeks again since she'd gotten word from home. Hattie hadn't sent anymore letters since the accident, but she'd used her protean coin to send a message. She'd been sorely tempted to use her two-way mirror, but the thought of connecting to Professor's mirror and possibly putting them both in danger was terrifying to her.

Professor told her he was busy. He was recruiting people. He could be out of the country, for all she knew—he could be putting himself in dangerous situations and just didn't have time to think about her.

Still, Hattie had nightmares. She dreamt of all her friends' deaths. Luna and Mr. Lovegood laying prone in their tower-like home. Bill and his new bride slain on their honeymoon. The Weasleys' home, up in flames. Hermione attacked in her muggle hometown.

She even dreamt of that summer day when Cecelia was born, only in her dream they never got the warning from Professor's informant. The Death Eaters arrived and slayed them all where they stood—a group of children and their keepers, a generation of young wizards, gone.

At night, when she couldn't sleep, Hattie studied the scarce wizarding books she had. Her favorite was Hogwarts, A History, because it was almost like a storybook to her. Hogwarts had never existed in her lifetime, so the book was a fairytale of a magical castle and its' creators, all long gone. Sometimes while she was reading, she'd be reminded of stories Professor told her about his schooldays with her mother.

Sometimes, if she fell asleep reading, she'd have wild dreams. Not necessarily bad ones. She dreamt that she was a boy, and all her friends attended Hogwarts with her. They did all sorts of crazy things. Boy-Hattie played a sport on a broomstick called Quidditch, which looked quite fun. Boy-Hattie and Ron flew a car to school once and crash-landed. Boy-Hattie fought a basilisk using only parseltongue and a huge, ruby-encrusted sword. Boy-Hattie fought off a hundred dementors or more, using a patronus cast with a _wand. _Hattie had laughed at that one—no wand magic was strong enough to do something like _that._

But even in her dreams some things didn't change. Boy-Hattie watched as Cedric was killed, in a graveyard of all places. He took the body back with him to Hogwarts, refusing to let go of it, grief-shaken. Amos was there, screaming for his dead son. This dream woke Hattie up in tears, and she spent the rest of the night staring at the picture of Cecelia held in her brother's arms.

Cedric's death had been the end of a sort of innocence for Hattie.

Until then she'd only heard about the war. She knew her parents died in it, along with many of their friends. She'd been told of entire wizarding sects razed to the ground, others only spared when they joined the regime. But the war was a distant worry. It was not on her doorstep. It hadn't affected her.

In fact, it wasn't really a war at all. The dark had won. When she was a child, any rebellion was so tiny it wouldn't have stood a chance. As she grew she heard rumors of growing rebellions—Wizards First, the Futurists, and even the Order of the Phoenix. Most were wiped out within days of anyone first hearing their name. All rebellions were squashed, and the regime went on their way.

The Order was different. Back in the day her parents had been part of it. After their death most members were either dead or in hiding. The leader, the former headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, was missing. Nobody knew for sure if he was dead or imprisoned or just working in secret. He'd been the one to place Hattie with her relatives.

Hattie was trained not to ask questions of Professor. The less she asked, the less he had to lie to her. The less she knew, the less danger she was in. Even still there were blanks she couldn't fill in. Maybe she never would be able to. But even without asking questions, she was a smart girl, and could begin to fill in the blanks.

Severus was a spy—or so she assumed. She wasn't sure what he did, or even if he was an active spy whilst she was in his care. But she presumed he'd worked for the regime when he was young. Some nights when he was tired from a long day of her "incessant stupidity", she could see it in the set of his shoulders. The war had taken a toll on him. His forearm was a mess of scar tissue, where rumor had it anyone in the regime was marked.

As she got older though it became clear that he was one of the most trusted members of the rebellion. Hattie probably would never know what he did to earn that space, but she'd never forget the first time he took her to meet McGonagall. The woman had embraced Severus desperately, clearly having been under the impression he was lost to the world.

The adults were careful to keep the horrors of the war from the children. When they were young they were taught magic like a cult religion, and mostly one on one or in small groups. Hattie learned to revere the power she held within her body, to love it. She was taught it was the one thing nobody could ever take from her.

She was taught it was the single most important secret she would ever keep.

From the muggles she had little to fear. She could stop even their greatest weapons with the flick of a wrist, erase their memories, disappear entirely before they could even blink. It was an ancient law they abided by, to keep this secret from the mundane world.

No, it was other wizards she had to be weary of. It was the other wizards that she was _taught _to fear. It went against her very instincts to turn away from her people. Her magic sang to them, called out—yearned to be among its own kind.

The first thing all young wizards are taught is how to quiet their magic. Remain undetected. Protect themselves from the regime.

Cedric had committed the regime's greatest crime. He was caught with a wand by a Death Eater. Being caught was bad enough, but being caught committing a crime against the regime…

Nobody could tell Hattie why Cedric's parents weren't tracked down, why his entire family wasn't slaughtered in their homes. Maybe nobody knew. Maybe Cedric died before the regime could peel the information from his mind.

Whatever the case, the news of his death came to her door two days afterward. There was no body to be recovered. The only reason they even knew he had died was the Diggory Ancestral Tree had blacked his name out.

This was when the war finally landed on Hattie's doorstep.

The news filtered down through the network of allies Hattie and Professor had acquired. It had a spidering effect. Hattie remembered with a dark sort of humor that she knew exactly when each family got the news. Suddenly any communication with them would go dark—responses to letters would take weeks, and were even more encoded than usual. Families brought their children in close, bundled themselves up, prepared for the worst.

It never got better, really. Families with multiple children were the worst. They worried about becoming a hotspot. The Weasleys worried most of all—with seven children it was a wonder they'd never been investigated.

Even Professor became grating. He warned her against using magic outside of his home. The regime couldn't track her, but she—like all young witches trained wandlessly—was powerful. He worried someone would notice her magic and investigate. They had had a huge row about it. She remembered what he said even to this day:

"Let them die, Hattie. Let the Death Eaters raze them to the ground. Whatever you do, whatever choices you make, you do not show your magic to anyone you are not willing to trust with your life. One day our lives may depend on yours."

It had seemed like such an odd thing for him to tell her, and she screamed at him. She could never stand by whilst her people were suffering. She would defend anyone who needed defending, if it were within her power—but that was what he was worried about.

Sometimes she wondered if that was why he told her about Charlie, if he had somehow subtly convinced her to go to him. Hattie was safer in the United States than any of her friends were back home.

Hattie sighed as she blinked herself awake, snapping out of whatever laze she'd been in when they pulled into the high school. Maybe she would go to sleep early tonight.

"Have a good day, Hattie," Charlie called, waving as he pulled away. "See you tonight!"

Hattie waved as she walked away. The bell for second period hadn't rang yet, but by the time she got there, class would be over. Instead, she headed toward the art building for third period.

When second period let out, after the students had filed into the classroom, she entered and took her usual seat. They were working on pottery this week which was…_exceptionally _hard with one hand. Hattie usually ended up covering her casted hand with plastic wrap or a plastic bag and using it as a stabilizer.

"Still in a cast, I see," Beau's voice chirped. He plopped down in his seat next to her, looking hilariously spindly with his long legs. "Angela asked me to the dance today."

Hattie looked at him tiredly, grinning nonetheless. "Congrats. You said yes?"

"Yeah," Beau smiled bashfully. Even though he had a crush on Edythe, he seemed genuinely pleased. "Who knows what'll come of it, but I'm excited."

Ms. Coal called the class to order then and they turned to pay attention to her instructions, sharing a secret smile.

—x—

Bella's morning went a little differently.

When she pulled into the parking lot with Beau, she deliberately parked as far from the silver Volvo as possible. She didn't want to put herself in the path of too much temptation and wind up owing him a new car.

Beau departed quickly. He didn't say why, but by the excited energy that had been running through him all morning, Bella assumed it was to go corral Angela.

When Bella got out of the cab, she fumbled with her key and it fell into a puddle at her feet (a great start to the day). With a groan, she stooped to grab it, but a white hand flashed out and grabbed it before she could.

Bella jerked upright. Edward was right next to her, leaning casually against the truck.

"How do you do that?" she asked, equal parts amazed and irritated.

"Do what?" He held out the key as he spoke. As she reached for it, he dropped it into her palm.

"Appear out of thin air."

"Bella, it's not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant." His voice was quiet as usual—velvet, muted.

She scowled at his perfect face. His eyes were light again today, a golden honey color. Then she looked down, needing to reassemble her now-tangled thoughts.

"Why the traffic jam last night?" she demanded, still looking away. "I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don't exist, not irritating me to death."

"That was for Tyler's sake, not mine. I had to give him is chance." Edward snickered.

"You…" Bella gasped. She couldn't think of a bad enough word. It felt like the heat of her anger should physically burn him, but he only seemed more amused.

"And I'm not pretending you don't exist," he continued.

"So, you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Tyler's van didn't do the job?"

Anger flashed in his tawny eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, all signs of humor gone.

"Bella, you are utterly absurd," he said, his low voice cold.

Her palms tingled—she wanted badly to hit something. That surprised her, since she was usually a nonviolent person. Instead, she turned her back and started to walk away.

"Wait," he called. Bella continued walking, sloshing angrily through the rain. But he was next to her, easily keeping pace.

"I'm sorry, that was rude," he said as they walked. Bella ignored him. "I'm not saying it isn't true," he continued. "But it was rude to say it, anyway."

"Why won't you leave me alone?" Bella grumbled.

"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me," he chuckled. He seemed to have recovered his good humor.

"Do you have multiple personality disorder?" she asked severely.

"You're doing it again."

She sighed. "Fine, then. What did you want to ask?"

"I was wondering if, a week from Saturday—you know, the day of the spring dance—"

"Are you trying to be funny?" Bella interrupted, wheeling toward him. Her face got drenched as she looked up at his expression.

His eyes were wickedly amused. "Will you please allow me to finish?"

Bella bit her lip and clasped her hands together, interlocking her fingers, so she couldn't do anything rash.

"I heard you say you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride."

Bella gaped at him. That was certainly not what she was expecting.

"What?" she said. She was unsure what he was getting at.

"Do you want a ride to Seattle?"

"With who?" she asked, mystified.

"Myself, obviously." He enunciated every syllable, as if he thought she was stupid.

Bella was still stunned. "Why?"

"Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and, to be honest, I'm not sure if your truck can make it."

"My truck works just fine, thank you very much for your concern." She started to walk again but was too surprised to maintain the same level of anger.

"But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" He was matching her pace again.

"I don't see how that's any of your business." _Stupid, shiny Volvo owner, _she thought contritely.

"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."

"Honestly, Edward." A chill went through her as she said his name, and she sort of hated it. "I can't keep up with you. I thought you didn't want to be my friend."

"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."

"Oh, thanks, now that's all cleared up." Her voice was full of heavy sarcasm. She realized abruptly that she had stopped walking again. They were under the shelter of the cafeteria roof now, so she could look more easily at his face—which certainly didn't help her clarity of thought.

"It would be more…prudent, for you not to be my friend," Edward explain, quietly. His voice was heavy. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."

His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered the last sentence, his voice smoldering. Bella had trouble remembering how to breathe.

"Will you go with me to Seattle?" he asked, still intense.

She couldn't speak, so instead she settled for nodding. Edward smiled briefly, and then his face became serious.

"You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I'll see you in class."

He turned abruptly and walked back the way they'd came.


	12. Chapter 12

_Follows the events of Twilight: 5_  
_VERY BY THE BOOK. Sorry :(_

* * *

**12.**

_The truth is Balance. Light and dark. We are all necessary parts of the tapestry. ―Tochi Onyebuchi_

* * *

**Group: THREE LITTLE SWANS**

**Bell-Bell: edward cullen just asked to drive me to seattle**

**Beauregard: ?**

**Bell-Bell: ikr? you there hattie?**

**Hattie-Dearest: barely.**

** in the waiting room**

** why did he ask you that?**

**Beauregard: maybe hes going to kidnap u**

** hes always staring at u**

** maybe hes secretly a murderer**

**Hattie-Dearest: lol I hope not **

** oh shoot g2g **

** dr cullen is here**

—x—

All throughout the day there were whispers about the weather report for this weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, which meant that Mike's beach trip was finally going to be possible. Even though the weather was still going to be kind of chilly for a beach trip, Hattie was excited about it.

Angela was in a bubblier mood than usual, acting more like Jessica and her friends than her normal self. Apparently, all you had to do to bring her out of her shell was force her to ask a boy to a dance. Hattie didn't mind though—it was nice seeing her opening up, and it was fun to think of her best non-magical, non-related friend going out with her cousin.

When Angela wasn't chatting about the upcoming dance, Beau was. It seemed he was equally excited as her friend.

Word had gotten around that Hattie had a date, which meant that everyone was trying to figure out who it was. Hattie finally fessed up to Angela as they walked to lunch.

"You don't know him," she said, a little embarrassed. "He doesn't go here."

"Oh?" Angela pried playfully. "An older boy?"

"No, no, nothing like that—he goes to school on the reservation."

"Oooh," Angela knocked shoulders with Hattie. "Sounds exciting. What's his name? How did you meet him?"

"He's called Jacob," Hattie explained. "My uncle's friends with his dad. We actually met on a fishing trip, but he's super sweet. He made me this," she added, touching the headband she always wore in her hair.

"He totally loves you," Angela gushed. "Why don't you ever talk about him?"

"What is there to talk about?" Hattie asked confusedly. "I have not seen him since Christmas."

Beau fell into step beside them. "So, how're we feeling about the beach trip? Yes? It's going to be cold."

Just like that Angela's prying was shut down as she stumbled over her words. Maybe she liked Beau a little more than Hattie had assumed—hopefully she didn't get hurt if Beau chose to act on his crush.

That would be a hard situation for her.

They made it to the cafeteria and Beau and Angela joined the line. Hattie was still in the habit of bringing her own lunch, but she asked Beau to buy her a soda, something she didn't usually indulge in—but she needed the caffeine today.

Bella was already sitting down, moping. Hattie had no idea why, but Bella seemed to mope a lot lately.

"So," Hattie said conspiratorially. "We're friends with Cullen now, are we?"

Bella glanced up in relief when she saw Hattie. "What do you mean?"

"Our messages this morning."

The other girl nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. "Yeah, I guess so."

Hattie leaned in toward her. "Are we going to talk about it?"

Beau plopped down next to Hattie, across from Bella. He seemed immediately in on the conversation, even though he'd just walked up—maybe they were all on the same wavelength, or maybe it had just been on his mind. "Yeah, what's up with him? Does he have multiple personality disorder or something?"

Bella chuckled. "Apparently not, though I asked him the same thing. He's so…strange."

"We gathered that," Beau made a 'continue on' motion. "Any particular examples?"

Bella traced the mouth of her lemonade bottle with her pinky, a habit Hattie had noticed she did when she was deep in thought or nervous.

"He keeps telling me we shouldn't be friends," she whispered. More people were gathering at their table and she wanted the conversation to stay private. "He even warned me I should stay away from him. But in the same breath, he tells me he can't stay away from me anymore? How weird is that?"

"Weird," Hattie agreed.

"Major weird," Beau amended.

"It's like he's waiting for you to decide, almost," Hattie was thinking aloud now. "What are you thinking?"

Then Jessica butted in, giggling. "Umm, Bella? Edward Cullen is staring at you again. I wonder why he's sitting alone today."

The conspiring trio snapped to attention, searching out said Cullen. Sure enough, there he was—at an empty table across the cafeteria from where he normally sat. He was smiling crookedly, and once he'd caught Bella's eyes, he raised one hand and motioned with his index finger for her to come join him.

As Bella stared in disbelief, Beau and Hattie shared another, knowing glance.

"Does he mean you?" Jessica asked. Hattie rolled her eyes in disdain at the insulting astonishment in her voice.

"Maybe he needs help with his biology homework," Bella muttered to the girl. But she glanced at her siblings with wide, confused eyes. "I should go see what he wants…I'll text you guys."

They stared at her as she left the table, walking away. Jessica was gaping with open jealousy, which gave Hattie a sour taste in her mouth.

She really didn't like that girl.

Beau and Hattie watched Bella hover behind a chair for a moment. The duo had a quick exchange, and then Bella sat down.

Hattie wish she could use magic here without it being obvious—she really wanted to hear what was going on. The Cullens were an interest to her due to their crazy auras. Alas, she'd just have to wait for Bella to recount it to them.

Beau leaned toward Hattie and whispered to her. "Maybe now her obsession with him will have an outlet."

Hattie shoved him gently with her good arm, laughing. "Like you're one to talk!"

—x—

"This is different," Bella finally managed to say, after sitting across for him for a long moment.

"Well…" Edward paused. Then, the rest of his words seem to flow out of him in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

What a bizarre answer. She waited for it to make sense, or for him to say something that would make sense. The seconds ticked by.

"You know I don't have any idea what you mean," she eventually pointed out.

"I know." He smiled again, and then changed the subject. "I think your family is annoyed that I stole you."

Bella felt warmth blossom in her chest but decided to play along. "They'll survive." She could feel their stares, anyhow—she was sure they'd have plenty of questions later.

"I may not give you back, though," Edward said, with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Bella gulped. For some reason, his statement sent butterflies through her stomach.

He laughed. "You look worried."

"No," she said, but ridiculously, her voice shook. "Surprised, actually…what brought this all on?"

"I told you—I got tired of staying away from you. So, I'm giving up." He was still smiling, but his ochre eyes were serious.

"Giving up?" she repeated, in confusion.

"Yes—giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now and let the chips fall where they may." His smile faded away as he explained, and a hard edge crept into his voice.

Bella shook her head. She imprinted the words into her mind, wondering what her siblings would think about it. Or—her brother, and her cousin. "You lost me again," she told him truthfully.

That breathtaking crooked smile made an appearance again.

"I always say too much when I'm talking to you—that's one of the problems."

"Don't worry—I don't understand any of it," Bella told him wryly.

"I'm counting on that."

"So…in plain English, are we friends now?" _We're friends with Cullen now, are we? _Hattie had asked. It was a question Bella wanted answers to, too.

"Friends…" Edward mused, dubious.

"Or not," she muttered.

This made him grin. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Something in his eyes told her that his warning was true.

"You say that a lot," she noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling in her stomach. She worked hard to keep her voice steady.

"Yes," Edward agreed. "Because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."

Bella narrowed her eyes. "I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too."

He smiled, apologetically.

"So, as long as I'm being…not smart, we'll try to be friends?" she struggled to sum up the confusing exchange.

"That sounds about right."

Bella looked at her hands, wrapped around her lemonade bottle. She wasn't sure what to say now.

"What are you thinking?" Edward asked, curiously.

She looked up at his deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual, blurted out the truth.

"I'm trying to figure out what you are."

His jaw tightened, but somehow he kept his smile in place.

"Are you having any luck with that?" he asked, with manufactured offhandedness.

"Not too much," she admitted.

Edward chuckled. "What are your theories?"

Bella blushed. To be honest, she had been vacillating between Tony Stark and Steve Rogers for the last month. She wasn't going to own up to that, though.

"Won't you tell me?" he asked, his head tilted to one side with a shockingly tempting smile.

Still, she shook her head. "Too embarrassing."

"That's really frustrating, you know," he complained.

"No," Bella quickly disagreed, her eyes narrowing. "I can't imagine why that would be frustrating at all—just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night, wondering what they could possibly mean…now, why would that be frustrating?"

Edward grimaced.

"Or better," Bella continued, on a roll now. The pent-up annoyance was flowing freely. "Say that person also did a wide range of bizarre things—from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day, to treating you like a pariah the next, and never explained any of that, either, even after he promised. That, also, would be very non-frustrating."

"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?"

"I don't like double-standards."

They stared at each other, unsmiling.

He glanced over Bella's shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, he snickered.

"What?"

"Your boyfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you—he's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." He snickered again.

"I don't know who you're talking about," Bella said, frostily. "But I'm sure you're wrong anyways."

"I'm not. I told you, most people are easy to read."

"Except me, of course."

"Yes. Except for you," Edward agreed. Then, unexpectedly, "You and your family. I wonder why that is."

His eyes turned brooding, like he was debating the very nature of her family. She had to look away at the intensity of his stare. Bella concentrated on unscrewing the lid of her lemonade.

She took a swig, staring at the table without seeing it.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distractedly.

"No." She didn't feel like mentioning her stomach was already full—of butterflies. "You?" she asked, staring at the empty table before him.

"No, I'm not hungry."

Bella didn't understand the expression on his face—it was like he was enjoying a private joke.

"Can you do me a favor?" She asked, after a second of hesitation.

Edward looked suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want."

"It's not much," she assured him. He waited, guarded but curious. "I just wonder…if you could warn me beforehand, the next time you decide to ignore me for my own good. Just so I'm prepared."

Bella looked at her lemonade bottle as she spoke, tracing the lid with her pinkie finger.

"That sounds fair." He was pressing his lips together to keep from laughing when she looked up.

"Thanks," she responded. She felt somehow a little lighter.

"Then can I have one answer in return?" he demanded.

"One." Bella conceded.

"Tell me one theory."

_Oops. _"Not that one."

"You didn't qualify, you just promised one answer," Edward reminded her.

"And you've broken promises yourself," she retorted.

"Just one theory—I won't laugh."

"Yes, you will." If she was positive about anything, it was that.

He looked down, and then glanced up through his long black lashes, is ochre eyes scorching. "Please?" he breathed, leaning toward her.

Bella's blinked, her mind suddenly going blank. Holy crow, how did he do that? She shook herself, a little dazed.

"Please tell me just one little theory." His eyes were still smoldering.

"Um, well, injected with a super-serum?" Bella wondered if he was a hypnotist, too—or was she just a hopeless pushover?

He scoffed. "That's not very creative."

"I'm sorry, that's all I've got," Bella said, a little miffed.

"You're not even close," he teased.

"No spiders?"

"Nope."

"And no radioactivity?"

"None."

"Dang," she sighed, all her super-hero theories debunked.

"Kryptonite doesn't bother me, either," Edward chuckled.

"You're not supposed to laugh, remember?"

He struggled to compose his face.

"I'll figure it out eventually," Bella warned him.

His face was serious again. "I wish you wouldn't try."

"Because…?" she prompted.

"What if I'm not the superhero?" he asked, and his face was playful, but his eyes were impenetrable. "What if I'm the bad guy?"

Several things he'd hinted at suddenly fell into place. "Oh," she said. "I see."

Abruptly, his face was severe—as if he were afraid he'd accidentally said too much. "Do you?"

"You're dangerous?" Bella guessed.

Her pulse quickened intuitively as she realized the truth of her own words. Edward was dangerous. He'd been trying to tell her that all along.

But he just looked at her, his eyes full of some incomprehensible emotion.

"But not bad," Bella whispered. "No, I don't believe that you're bad."

"You're wrong." His voice was almost inaudible, and he looked down. Seemingly without thinking about it, he stole the lid to her lemonade bottle, spinning it between his fingers. Bella just stared at him, wondering why she didn't feel afraid. He meant what he was saying—that much was obvious.

But she just felt anxious, on edge…and, more than anything else, fascinated. The same way she always felt toward him.

"You saved me," Bella reminded him.

"But Hattie…" Edward's eyes were haunted. He looked like he had seen a ghost. Bella was struck by the thought that this was the first time he'd admitted—he could've saved her, but he didn't.

"Hattie's fine," she said, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

He stayed silent this time. The silence lasted until Bella noticed the cafeteria was nearly empty. Her heart quickened, feeling guilty; she hoped Hattie had made it to class okay.

"We're going to be late," she said, jumping to her feet. Edward stayed seated.

"I'm not going to class today." He was twirling the lid so fast it was a blur.

"Why not?"

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." He smiled up at her, but his eyes were still troubled.

"Well, I'm going," Bella said, too much of a coward to get caught. When he said goodbye to her, she hesitated, torn—but the first bell sent her scurrying out the door.

So few questions had been answered in comparison to how many new questions had been raised.

She was lucky that Mr. Banner wasn't in the room yet when she arrived. Mike was staring at her, looking resentful. Bella also noticed that Hattie's eyes were on her—but her cousin just seemed curious.

When Mr. Banner explained the lesson to them, Bella regretted not joining Edward immediately. Even though she couldn't possibly see it, she imagined she could see the tiny, glinting barb in Mr. Banner's hands. Her stomach flipped.

He began at Mike's table and asked the blond boy for his hand. Bella winced, trying not to look, but she was caught now—like she was watching a train wreck. Her teacher jabbed the barb into the tip of Mike's middle finger.

_Oh no. _

Clammy moisture broke out across her forehead.

He was still speaking, still demonstrating the lab—when he squeezed Mike's finger till the blood flowed, Bella swallowed convulsively. Her stomach heaved.

Her ears were ringing, and she closed her eyes, placing her cheek against her lab table. She tried to use the cool surface to hang on to her consciousness. She could hear the squeals, giggles, and complaints of her classmates all around her. Bella breathed slowly, in and out.

"Bella, are you alright?" Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to her head and he sounded alarmed.

"I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner," she answered weakly. She was afraid to lift her head.

"Are you feeling faint?"

"Yes, sir," Bella replied, kicking herself internally for not ditching when she had the chance.

"Can someone take Bella to the nurse, please?" he called.

Mike ended up volunteering—he seemed eager, putting his arm around her waist and dragging hers over his shoulder. Bella couldn't even complain, leaning heavily against him n the way out of the classroom.

He towed her slowly across campus. When they rounded the corner of the cafeteria, out of sight of building four, she stopped.

"Just let me sit for a minute, please?" Bella begged.

Mike helped her sit on the edge of the sidewalk.

"Whatever you do, keep your hand in your pocket," she warned. She was still so dizzy. She slumped over on her side, putting her cheek against the freezing, damp cement of the sidewalk, closing her eyes.

It seemed to help a little.

"Wow, you're green, Bella." Mike said nervously.

"Bella?" A different voice called from the distance.

No…she really, really hoped that she was imagining that horribly familiar voice.

"What's wrong—is she hurt?" His voice was closer now, and he sounded upset. Bella wasn't imagining it. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very least, not throw up.

Mike seemed stressed. "I think she's fainted. I don't know what happened. She didn't even stick her finger."

"Bella." Edward's voice was right beside her, relieved now. "Can you hear me?"

"No," she groaned petulantly. "Go away."

He was chuckling now.

"I was taking her to the nurse," Mike explained in a defensive tone. "But she wouldn't go any further."

"I'll take her." Edward said. Bella could hear the smile still in his voice. "You can go back to class."

"No," Mike protested. "I'm supposed to do it."

Edward sighed. "Mike, if Bella's with the nurse, who's going to help Hattie to the gym?"

The sidewalk suddenly disappeared from beneath Bella. Her eyes flew open in shock—Edward had scooped her up in his arms, as easily as if she weighed ten pounds instead of a hundred and ten. As she began panicking, she noted that Mike was walking sullenly back to class.

"Put me down!" _Please, please do not let me vomit on him. _He was walking before she'd finished talking.

"You look awful," Edward grinned.

"Put me back on the sidewalk," she moaned pitifully. The rocking movement of his walk was not helping. He held her away from his body, gingerly, supporting all her weight on his arms—it didn't seem to bother him.

"So, you faint at the sight of blood?" he asked. This seemed to entertain him.

She didn't answer. She closed her eyes again, fighting the nausea with all her strength, clamping her lips together.

"And not even your own blood," he continued, enjoying himself.

Suddenly they were inside. She didn't know how he had opened the door with her in his arms, but the warmth of the office rushed over her, so she knew it to be true.

Ms. Cope bustled around, gasping and tutting. Edward explained that she fainted in biology, which was not necessarily true.

Bella opened her eyes. They were in the office, and Edward was striding past the front counter towards the nurse's door. Ms. Cope ran ahead of him to hold it open.

The grandmotherly nurse looked up from a novel, astonished, when Edward swung her into the room and placed her gently on the crackly paper that covered the cot. Then he moved to stand against the wall, as far across the room as possible. His eyes were bright, excited.

"She's just a little faint," Edward told the nurse. "They're blood typing in biology."

The nurse nodded sagely. "There's always one."

Edward muffled a snicker.

"Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."

"I know," Bella sighed. The nausea was already fading now that she was sitting still again.

"Does this happen a lot?" the nurse asked.

"Sometimes…" Bella admitted. Edward coughed to hide another laugh.

The nurse looked at him. "You can go back to class now."

"I'm supposed to stay with her," Edward said, with such assured authority that—even though she pursed her lips—the nurse didn't argue.

She just bustled out of the office muttering about grabbing a cold compress.

"You were right," Bella moaned, letting her eyes close against the fluorescent lights.

"I usually am," agreed Edward. "But about what, in particular, this time?"

"Ditching _is _healthy." Bella said it evenly, practicing her breathing.

Edward watched her quietly for a moment. Then, "You scared me for a minute there," he admitted. His tone made it sound like he was admitting a humiliating weakness. "I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."

"Ha, ha," she said, her eyes still closed. She was feeling more and more normal with every minute.

"Honestly—I've seen corpses with better color. I was concerned I might have to avenge your murder."

"Poor Mike. I'll bet he's mad."

"He absolutely loathes me," Edward said cheerfully.

"You can't know that," Bella argued—but then she wondered suddenly if he could.

"I saw his face—I could tell."

"How did you see me? I thought you were ditching." She was mostly fine, now. The queasiness probably would've passed faster if she had something in her stomach—but then again, maybe it was lucky her stomach was empty.

"I was in my car, listening to a CD." His answer was so normal. It surprised her.

The nurse came back into the room with a cold compress, which she laid across Bella's head. Bella sat up, pleased when the mint-green walls stayed where they were. The nurse was about to make her lay back down when Ms. Cope stuck her head in.

"We've got another one," she warned.

Bella hopped down to free the lone cot up for the next invalid, handing the cold compress back to the nurse. She didn't need it.

Then Mike staggered through the door with Lee Stephens, his lab partner. Edward and Bella drew back against the wall to give them room.

"Oh no," Edward muttered. "Get out to the office, Bella."

She looked up at him, bewildered.

"Trust me—go."

Bella spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. She could feel Edward right behind her.

"You actually listened to me." He sounded stunned.

"I smelled the blood," Bella said, wrinkling her nose. Lee wasn't sick from watching other people, like she was.

"People can't smell blood," Edward contradicted.

"Well, I can—that's what makes me sick. It smells like rust…and salt."

Edward was staring at her with an unfathomable expression.

"What?" she asked.

"You weren't sick when—Hattie…"

Bella looked at the floor at the reminder. She had smelled the blood, like copper and rust, but at that moment she'd been so panicked—so in shock…

Edward seemed to understand, because he didn't push further.

Mike came out the door then, glancing from Bella to Edward. The look he gave Edward confirmed what Edward said about loathing. He looked back to her, his eyes glum.

"You look better," he accused.

"Just keep your hand in your pocket," she warned him again.

"It's not bleeding anymore," he muttered. "Are you going back to class?"

"Are you kidding? I'd just have to turn right back around and come back."

"Yeah, I guess… So are you going this weekend? To the beach?" While he spoke, he flashed another glare toward Edward, who was standing against the cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.

Bella tried to sound as friendly as possible. "Yeah, we're coming. Hattie's really looking forward to it."

"We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten." His eyes flickered to Edward again, wondering if he was giving out too much information. His body language made it clear this wasn't an open invitation.

"We'll be there," Bella promised.

"I'll see you in gym, then," he said, moving uncertainly toward the door.

"See you." She replied. He looked at her once more, his round face slightly pouting. As he walked through the door, his shoulder slumped.

A wave of sympathy washed over Bella. She pondered seeing his disappointed face again…in gym.

"Gym," Bella groaned.

"I'll take care of that," she hadn't noticed Edward move toward her, but he was whispering in her ear now. "Go sit down and look pale."

That wasn't really an issue—she was always pale. Her recent swoon had even left a sheen of sweat on her face. She sat down in one of the rickety waiting room chairs, leaning against the wall. Fainting spells always left her exhausted.

She could hear Edward speaking lowly to Ms. Cope, springing her out of class with as much skill as a trained actor.

When he was done, Edward turned toward her and spoke. His voice was sarcastic.

"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?"

She rolled her eyes and let him lead her out into the cool, misty air. It felt nice, washing her face of sticky perspiration.

"Thanks," Bella told him. "It was almost worse getting sick just to miss gym."

"Anytime." He was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.

Bella was quiet for a moment and then, even if Mike wouldn't approve, began talking. "So, are you going? This Saturday, I mean?"

She was hoping he would, even though it seemed unlikely. She couldn't picture him loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; he didn't belong in the same world. But just hoping he might gave her a twinge of enthusiasm for the trip.

"Where are you all going, exactly?" He was still looking ahead, expressionless.

"Down to La Push, First Beach." Bella studied his face, trying to read it. His eyes seemed to narrow infinitesimally.

Then he looked down at her, smiling wryly. "I really don't think I was invited."

Bella sighed. "I just invited you."

"Let's you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don't want him to snap." His eyes danced at the idea—he was enjoying it _way _more than he should.

"Mike-schmike," Bella muttered. She was preoccupied by the way he said "you and I." She found she liked it more than she probably should.

They neared the parking lot, and she hesitated when she saw her truck. If she took it, how would her siblings—her brother and her cousin, rather—get home? She could come and get them when school was over…

She didn't have to think about it too much, because Edward grabbed her jacket and yanked her toward him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, outraged. He was gripping a fistful of her jacket in his hand.

She was confused. "I was just debating how my siblings would get home."

"They'll take the truck," he said, indignantly. "Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?"

His voice was still indignant. He was towing Bella toward his car now, pulling her by the jacket. It was all she could do to keep from falling backward.

_ He'd probably just drag me along anyways, if I did, _she thought petulantly.

"Let go!" she insisted. He ignored her. She staggered across the wet sidewalk until they reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed her—she stumbled against the passenger door. "You're so pushy!"

"It's open," was all he responded. He got in the driver's side.

It was raining harder now, and she'd never put her hood up, so her hair was dripping down her back. Bella tried to maintain her dignity as she got into Edward's car. She wasn't very successful—she looked like a half-drowned cat and her boots squeaked.

He fiddled with the controls, turning the heat up and the music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, Bella was preparing to give him the silent treatment—her face in full pout mode—but then she heard the music playing, and her curiosity got the better of her.

"Clair de Lune?" she asked, surprised.

"You know Debussy?" he sounded surprised, too.

"Not well," Bella admitted. "My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house—I only know my favorites."

"It's one of my favorites, too." He stared out into the rain, lost in thought.

Bella listened to the music, relaxing into the light gray leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. She began to realize they were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, that she didn't feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.

"What is your mother like?" Edward asked her suddenly.

Bella glanced over to see him studying her with curious eyes.

"She looks a lot like me, but prettier." Bella began, fondly. His eyebrows rose. "I have too much Charlie in me. Beau has her eyes, though. He's a lot more like her than me—outgoing, braver. She's irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she's a very unpredictable cook. She's one of my best friends."

She stopped abruptly. Talking about Renee made Bella miss her more.

"How old are you, Bella?" Edward's voice sounded frustrated for some reason she couldn't imagine. He'd stopped the car, and Bella realized they were at Charlie's house already. The rain was so heavy she could barely see the house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a river.

"I'm seventeen," she replied, a little confused.

"You don't seem seventeen." His tone was reproachful—it made her laugh. "What?" he asked, curious again.

"My mom always says I was born thirty-five and get more middle-aged every year." She laughed, and then sighed. "Well, someone has to be the adult. Besides, you don't seem much like a junior in high school yourself."

He made a face and changed the subject. "So why did your mom marry Phil?"

Bella was surprised he remembered the name—she'd mentioned it once, nearly two months ago. It took her a moment to answer.

"My mother…she's very young for her age. Phil makes her feel even younger, I think. At any rate, she's crazy about him." Bella shook her head. The attraction was a mystery to her.

"Do you approve?" Edward asked.

"Does it matter?" Bella countered. "Beau and I want her to be happy…and he is who she wants."

"That's very generous… I wonder," he mused.

"What?"

"Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?" He suddenly fell silent, eyes searching hers.

"I-I think so," Bella stuttered. "But she's the parent, after all. It's a little bit different."

"No one too scary, then," Edward teased.

Bella grinned in response. "What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings and tattoos?"

"That's one definition, I suppose."

"What's your definition?"

But he ignored her question, deflecting it with another. "Do you think I could be scary?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. The faint trace of a smile lightened his face.

She wondered if the truth or a lie would go over better in this situation. She decided on the truth. "Hmm… I think you could be, if you wanted to be."

"Are you frightened of me now?" the smile had vanished, and his heavenly face was suddenly serious.

"No." She answered too quickly, though—his smile returned. "So are you going to tell me about your family, now?"

It must be a more interesting story than hers—though with the addition of Hattie, possibly not.

Edward was cautious now. "What do you want to know?"

"The Cullens adopted you?" Bella verified.

"Yes."

Bella hesitated for a moment. "What happened to your parents?"

"They died many years ago." His tone was matter-of-fact. Bella was reminded of Hattie, and her face clouded over. "What's wrong? I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now."

Bella turned her face to avoid the question. Sometimes she still wondered about Hattie's past. The girl was pretty secretive about it, but she and Beau had been able to put two and two together in some cases.

"And you love them." She said it as a statement. It was obvious, in the way he spoke of them. Her face turned downward again.

Just as it was obvious that Hattie didn't love her previous guardians.

"Bella?" Edward asked, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. Just—Hattie."

"Hattie?" he asked, eyebrows knitting together. Then they smoothed out. "Why does she live with you, Bella?"

Bella sighed. It wasn't really her story to tell, but she would tell him anything.

"Her parents died a long time ago, too. When she was a baby. She lived with our aunt and uncle in England…but she didn't have a very happy childhood. I worry about her sometimes. I feel sad for her. I think…you're very lucky to have had Carlisle and Esme."

Edward nodded in agreement. "I am lucky. And you love your cousin."

"I love her like she's my own sister," Bella agreed. "I often find myself forgetting she's not. What about your sister?"

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

"My siblings, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain for me."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I guess you have to go." She didn't want to get out of the car.

He smiled tenderly at her. "Have fun at the beach…good weather for sunbathing." He glanced out at the sheeting rain.

"Won't I see you tomorrow?"

"No. Edythe, Emmett and I are starting the weekend early."

"What are you going to do?" A friend could ask that, right? She hoped the disappointment wasn't too prevalent in her voice.

"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier."

Bella remembered Charlie's rant, when he'd said the Cullens went camping frequently.

"Oh, well, have fun." She tried sounding enthusiastic, but she didn't think she'd fooled him. A smile was playing around the edges of his lips.

"Will you do something for me this weekend?" He asked, turning to look her straight in the face. He utilized the full power of his burning gold eyes.

She nodded helplessly.

"Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So…try not to fall into the ocean or get run over by anything, alright?" He smiled crookedly.

The helplessness had faded as he spoke. Bella glared at him.

"I'll see what I can do," she snapped at him as she jumped out into the rain. She slammed the door with excessive force.

Edward was still smiling as he drove away.


	13. Chapter 13

_\- Follows the events of Twilight: 6_  
_\- Avicii tribute- I wrote this chapter around the same time as his death. So this chapter (about the first 22 chapters, I think?) are a year old in April._

* * *

**13.**

"_The heart can see things invisible to the eye." ―T.A. Barron_

* * *

**Group: THREE LITTLE SWANS**

_**/ Bell-Bell's nickname has been changed to **__**Mrs. Cullen.**_

**Mrs. Cullen: beau youll have to drive home today**

** got sick in bio**

** edward drove me home**

** HEY! Who changed my name?!**

**Beauregard: i hear wedding bells**

** get it?**

** BELLS**

**Hattie-Dearest: are you feeling better now?**

** i didn't know you fainted at the sight of blood**

**Beauregard: oh yah she does**

** once i got a bloody nose driving home from school**

** she fainted in the pass. seat **

** it was great**

**Mrs. Cullen: srsly who changed my name guys**

**Hattie-Dearest: not me**

**Beauregard: would i do something like that?**

_**/Beauregard's nickname has been changed to **__**Bozo**_

**Bozo: srsly bella**

** it was just a joke**

** besides obviously u like him**

** right hattie?**

**Hattie-Dearest: leave me out of this**

**Bozo: u guys r no fun**

―x_―_

Bella accosted her siblings at the door when they got home. She'd been studying the third act of Macbeth, but the moment she heard the engine cut off in the driveway she ran to the door like an eager puppy.

"You look much better than you did in Biology," Hattie commented as she passed, dragging her heavy-looking bookbag behind her. The muscles in her good arm were straining, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, Mike was telling basically the entire school that you fainted on the sidewalk," Beau added. When he passed her, he shook his head like a dog, sending water droplet flying from his curls. "He said Edward Cullen carried you to the nurse's office."

"He did," Bella told them. She was annoyed at Mike's inability to keep his mouth shut. Even so, she suddenly had the urge to gush about what'd happened today, though it wasn't much for gossip. "He's seriously strong. He picked me right up off the sidewalk behind the cafeteria and carried me all the way to the office."

"To be fair it's not like you're _that_ heavy," Beau pointed out. He was coming around the corner with a towel, running it through his hair.

"I'd like to see you carry me that far without even getting out of breath, _Bozo,_" Bella muttered, moving to prep dinner. "He was really nice to me, even if his version of nice seems to be—mostly sarcasm and snark."

Hattie huffed a tiny laugh, looking fond. Bella didn't ask.

"So, why'd you come home?" Beau questioned, thunking his books onto the table. "I heard Lee Stephens was in the infirmary too, and I saw him in the parking lot."

"Edward's doing," Bella explained. "He convinced Ms. Cope that I was too ill to go to gym, so she let him bring me home."

"What happened at lunch?" Hattie cut in. "You looked like you were on a rollercoaster of emotions. Mike nearly went over to rescue you."

Beau started laughing loudly. "Yeah—man, that guy _loathes _Edward. It's hilarious."

Bella looked up from where she was rolling pieces of fish in some breading. She wasn't the biggest fan of seafood in general, but she was tired of it clogging up their freezer.

"We bantered a lot," she finally settled on. Even though she wanted to gush, there were some secrets that weren't hers to tell. "He told me we could be friends. He's still super confusing and cryptic, but I think we found some common ground. I think I understand him a little better now."

"Yeah, but what did you talk _about?_" Hattie pressed. Her eyes were wide, curious. "You had an awful lot of alone time today, there must've been _something _interesting."

Bella's lips quirked up. "We talked about why I moved here. Our families. He was really interested about Renee and kept asking me things like, _yes, but why did she remarry? _And _do you approve?_" after thinking a moment, she added mischievously, "We also talked a little bit about superheroes."

"You don't even like superheroes," Beau protested.

Bella's smile took a wicked turn. "No, but Edward does."

"So we like him now," Hattie mused. "Right?"

"I do," Bella answered. "You guys can make your own decisions."

Besides, she wanted to keep him as hers for just a little bit longer. Even though he wasn't—_hers, _that is.

Of course, at school on Friday she'd been prepared for the fainting comments. Jessica especially seemed to get a kick out of it. Beau had been exaggerating about Mike telling "the whole school" about Edward's involvement—nobody but those who had been there, and her siblings, knew. But Jessica had a whole bunch of questions about lunch.

She asked what he'd wanted, and told Bella she'd never seen him sit with anyone other than his family before. At Bella's blasé answers, she seemed to get annoyed—Bella guessed she'd been hoping to hear something that would make a good story to pass on.

The worst part about Friday was that, even though she knew he wouldn't be there, she still hoped. She walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Mike, unable to keep herself from searching out his table. Jasper, Rosalie, and Alice sat there, talking with their heads close together.

When Bella plopped down at her usual table, disappointed, she realized that she didn't know how long it would be before she saw him again. She was engulfed in a gloomy mood.

Nobody really seemed to notice, though Hattie did eye her knowingly. The rest of the table was full of chatter about their plans for the next day. Mike was animated again, putting a great deal of trust into the local weatherman, who promised sun tomorrow. Bella would have to see that before she believed it—though it was warmer today, almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn't be completely miserable.

Bella intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lauren during lunch, which she didn't understand until they were all walking out together. She was right behind Lauren, just a foot from her slick, silver blond hair, and she was evidently unaware of that.

"…don't know why _Bella_"—she sneered the name—"doesn't just sit with the Cullens from now on." Bella heard her muttering to Mike.

She'd never noticed what an unpleasant, nasal voice Lauren had, and she was surprised by the malice in it. Bella really didn't know her that well, certainly not well enough for Lauren to dislike her—or so she'd thought.

"She's my friend, she sits with us," Mike whispered back loyally, but also territorially.

Hattie grabbed Bella's arm and they hung back to let Jessica and Angela pass them. Bella was glad—she didn't want to hear anymore.

As class was starting, Bella got a quick series of messages from Hattie.

**Hattie Potter: i don't know why lauren was being such a brat**

** but i'm sorry you had to hear all that**

** she must be jealous**

** and mike is seriously weird too**

**Bella Swan: youre right, she must just be jealous**

** Thanks Hattie.**

She put her phone away with a smile as the bell rang.

―x_―_

That night at dinner, Charlie seemed enthusiastic about their trip to La Push in the morning. Hattie thought perhaps he felt guilty for going away every weekend and leaving them alone—but he'd spent too many years in the habit to break that now.

Of course, he knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-grandparents too, probably. He seemed to approve.

Bella cut in as they were finishing up. "Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks, or something like that? I think it's south of Mount Rainier." Her voice was casual, unconcerned.

"Yeah—why?"

Bella shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."

"It's not a very good place for camping," Charlie said, sounding surprised. "Too many bears. Most people go there during hunting season."

"Oh," Bella murmured. "Maybe I got the name wrong."

Hattie watched her cousin curiously—wondering who it was that was going camping. Bella wasn't an athletic, outdoorsy person, so her interest in the activity seemed wildly unnatural.

Hattie had plans for going to see Jacob while she was in La Push. The excitement over it kept her up, and she ended up sleeping in for once. When she woke the following morning, it was to an unusual brightness.

She opened her eyes to see a clear yellow light streaming through her window. Hattie couldn't believe it—she ran to her window to check. Sure enough, there was the sun. She felt like she hadn't seen the sun since August. Even in dreary Little Whinging she saw the sun more than she did in Forks.

After checking the temperature—a whopping sixty-six degrees—Hattie broke out some of her summer things. A circle skirt and a summery blouse tucked into it with some fun flats. Her pale skin could use the vitamin D.

(It would be just her luck if she got sunburned. Her arms would be two different colors.)

She put on as many of her clothes as she could, which ended up being her underwear and her skirt, then groaned and went to find Bella.

Bella was still in her room, gazing out the window in incredulity. When Hattie knocked, Bella came to help her, ignoring Hattie's bashfulness.

They'd gotten over the awkwardness by now. Hattie held a shirt to her front half whilst Bella clasped her bra, and then from the back her cousin helped her carefully maneuver the shirt over her blocky, bulky cast.

Hattie began to tuck it in clumsily, smiling to herself.

"Do you want me to help—?" Bella asked, motioning to her skirt.

"I think I can do it," Hattie rejected, tongue between her teeth as she tried to one-handedly tuck her blouse in. After a moment, she gave up, grumbling, "I can't wait to get this stupid thing off."

Once that was over, the two girls went to collect Beau. He was wearing swim-trunks and a t-shirt, grinning like a fool.

"Do you seriously think the water's gonna be warm enough to swim in?" Bella asked, rolling her eyes. "I guess if you get pneumonia, it's your own fault."

The Newtons' Olympic Outfitters was just north of town, and to Hattie it was a familiar, welcome site. She'd spent her first hour as a learning driver going round in circles in their parking lot, after all.

Bella pulled her monster of a truck up to where Mike's Suburban and Tyler's Sentra were parked together. There was a ton of people gathered already. Hattie saw Eric, Mike, and Tyler along with two other boys Hattie didn't share any classes with. She believed they were called Ben and Connor. Jessica was there (unfortunately) with Angela, Lauren, and McKayla. Two more girls stood with them, one of which muttered something in Lauren's ear at the site of Bella. Lauren shook her hair out and glared at Hattie's cousin.

So, it was going to be one of _those _days, then.

Mike was happy to see Bella, explaining that they were just waiting on Lee and Samantha now, unless one of them had invited somebody. (Which they hadn't.)

"So, will you ride in my car?" Mike asked Bella, seeming happy to ignore Beau and Hattie. "It's either that or Lee's mom's minivan."

Bella shrugged, looking at Beau and Hattie. "Sure."

Mike smiled blissfully at that—Hattie had the thought that it was so easy to make that boy happy.

Mike promised Bella that she could have shotgun, which seemed to make her uncomfortable. Jessica was glaring at Bella from a distance—Hattie really, really disliked that girl.

Hattie was sure Bella was pleased that the numbers worked out in their favor, though. Lee ended up bringing two extra people and suddenly every seat was necessary. Bella managed to wedge Jessica between her and Mike in the front seat.

Hattie wasn't as lucky—she ended up, as the smallest one, seated in a lap.

_Eric's _lap.

Both vehicles were full to the bursting, but nobody else was complaining. Hattie wished that Beau had at least ended up in Mike's Suburban with them—then she could sit on his lap instead. It'd probably still be awkward, but at least he wouldn't have his hands dangerously low around her hips. She perched, stiffly, as far forward on his thighs as possible.

The fifteen-mile drive to La Push had never seemed longer. Hattie couldn't even admire the lush, gorgeous scenery—too busy ensuring she never once relaxed backward into Eric's lap.

When they finally unloaded, Hattie was among the first to scramble out of the vehicle, face hot with anger and embarrassment. Eric looked entirely too pleased with himself, the slimy git.

The mile-long crescent that made up First Beach was gorgeous, though, and it quickly took her mind off the situation. The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the gray, rocky shore. Islands rose out of the steely waters with sheer cliffsides, reaching to uneven summits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs.

The beach had only a thin border of actual sand at the water's edge, after which it grew into millions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformly gray from a distance. Up close, they were every shade that a stone could be: terracotta, sea green, lavender, blue grey, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with huge driftwood trees, bleached bone-white in the salt waves, some piled together against the edge of the forest fringe, some lying solitary just out of the reach of waves.

They picked their way down the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like this before. There was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Some of the boys began gathering drier pieces of broken driftwood to build the fire up, making a teepee-like construction atop the older ashes.

Beau lounged next to Hattie, his long, skinny legs stretched out before them. "You've never seen a driftwood fire before, have you?"

Hattie shook her head at him. "No. I've only seen a bonfire a couple of times." She wasn't usually invited to Bonfire Night with her relatives and it wasn't really a wizarding tradition.

"The salt turns the fire blue," Beau told her excitedly. "It's really interesting."

Mike, at least, seemed pretty good at coaxing the fire to life. It crackled and popped as the flames licked through the salty driftwood. As tongues of flame grew higher and higher, Hattie was entranced by the hot blue and green colors swirled within.

Nature was magical.

After relaxing by the fire for a while, the Swan trio headed down to the beach. Most people were splitting off in small groups to go do their own thing. Some were walking into town to visit the small corner store, others had formed a hiking expedition and ventured into the forest in search of tide pools. Down the beach, a few of their schoolmates were tossing a Frisbee around.

Bella and Hattie mostly waded in the ice-cold water, picking up seashells. Hattie made a game of trying to find the biggest shell. They crouched down together, laughing as the wind tied knots in their hair, digging shells from the sand. Bella used a soggy twig she'd found—Hattie just dug the fingers of her good hand into the wet sand.

Beau had kept to his intentions, shedding his shirt and shoes and prancing off into the water. His stark white skin made him look ghostly compared to the sun-kissed water around him. (Hattie could see Angela admiring Beau from down the beach, where she had joined the Frisbee group. She wondered if the tall girl could tell from that distance that Beau's flat stomach was flat, but soft and not muscular. She wondered if it would have mattered to Angela, anyways.)

Thinking about her peers' relationships distracted Hattie from her shell-finding game. It'd been over two months since Christmas—ten weeks, now. She hadn't seen Jacob in that long.

There had been opportunities, of course. At first Hattie had just been feeling shy—a product of their near-kiss, most likely. Then she got busier and busier, with school and her cousins. Then, the accident. Suddenly she wasn't well enough to make the trip to La Push, what with the gash in her head. On top of all that, time kept passing and she got more and more stressed about the situation with Professor.

It wasn't the ideal situation, that was all.

Jacob understood. She texted him and called him on the phone daily. He, too, was busy—Billy was riding him hard about grades and wouldn't let him do anything if they were too low.

They hadn't really drifted apart. They just had to bear the distance in the meantime.

The tide came in at some point and she was caught in it. The hem of her skirt dragged through the water. When it washed away, Hattie was somewhat disappointed to see it took most of her shells with it.

"I think I win," Bella decided brightly. She had a reasonable stack of shells, and most of them were moderate in size. One was the size of Hattie's fist, without a doubt the largest either of them had found. "Are you hungry? I think it's about dinner time."

Beau came running up, shaking his wet body like a dog. The girls shrieked, half-annoyed, half-amused, as the chilly water droplets clung to them. "Let's take a picture!" the boy demanded, huddling them up together.

He bent down between them, from behind, so that they were all near the same height. They all looked pale, but flushed from the sun—and happy. Bella held out the phone for him and they clicked a couple of pictures before she shoved him away in annoyance.

"Come on, I'm hungry," Bella whined, handing his phone back. "And you got me all wet!"

They walked back to the bonfire, laughing as they went. Beau was teasing Bella about the last time they'd been on a beach—an ill-fated trip that had ended in visit to the hospital when Bella somehow tumbled straight into a fishing hook. Both of Hattie's cousins seemed shocked that this was Hattie's first true visit to the beach.

(She didn't count the fishing trip, where the most she'd seen of the beach was its docks.)

And then they were back to the group, and Hattie felt her heart stutter in her chest.

The bonfire was going in full swing. All the stragglers who'd made their way off solo had found themselves together again as the sun set. All of Hattie's friends and acquaintances (and not-so-acquaintances…_Jessica_) sat in the sand or on blankets or driftwood logs around the fire. They were passing around plates of food and someone's stereo was thumping an upbeat, electronic bassline. In the light of the sunset—the fire casting playful, dark shadows across everyone's faces—the scene looked like it could've been taken right out of a movie.

A group of newcomers had joined the party, locals from the tribe come to socialize. Their copper skin and dark hair shone in the firelight.

_"Thank the stars it's Friday…burnin' like a fire gone wild on Saturday..." _the stereo crooned.

And there he was, looking up as if he was intrinsically aware of her presence.

A breathtaking smile broke out over his charming face. As always, his teeth seemed too white in his mouth—straight and perfect, like the poster child for a dental company's ad. The girl he was speaking with must've realized he was no longer paying her any attention, because she turned to follow his gaze—her eyes alit on Hattie and she scowled.

Hattie didn't care. She was halfway across the bonfire circle by the time he had half-risen from his seat.

She hadn't pictured this moment. Actually, it seemed nuts that it had been ten weeks since the last time they saw each other—time was funny that way. He had grown since she saw him last, a few inches at least. He was shirtless and barefoot in the firelight, his long hair hanging loose over his shoulders.

Jacob was beautiful.

Hattie collided with his chest with an excited, if pained, yelp—in her rush, she'd forgotten about her cast. He held her tightly, securely in place for perhaps a moment too long, then pushed her away from him.

"Hattie!" he laughed. "I hoped I'd run into you!"

"You knew I was coming," Hattie accused. She couldn't be irritated at him—she had never mentioned the beach trip, in an attempt to plan a surprise.

"I suspected," Jacob agreed cheekily. "Look at you! You look so good! How's your head? How's your arm?" his voice was unexpectedly giddy—was it possible, Hattie wondered, that he felt the same things she did? This inexplicable draw to be near him, like their souls had known each other for eons?

She'd assumed it was her magic, but his sincere gaze made her second-guess herself.

"You've grown, too," Hattie told him with a bashful blush. She knew she wasn't any taller—the only things that had filled out were her curves—and that he noticed made her both pleased and self-conscious. "My arm is alright. Like my cast? It's cuter in person, huh?" she bantered.

Of course, there wasn't much to catch up on. She told him everything important over the phone, even sending pictures of her battle wounds. He'd seen the X-Rays, the green and purple bruising around her elbow before it'd been casted, he'd even seen her crushed car. The only thing she hadn't shown him was the gash on her head—half because she couldn't get the angle right with only one arm and half because of insecurity.

Now, Hattie showed Jacob her cut shyly. Dr. Cullen had needed to shave the area to stitch her up, and she'd been pretty self-conscious about it since then. It'd been seven weeks since the accident, though, and the spot was covered with short, downy baby hairs. It was easily hidden amongst the rest of her thick curls, which she'd taken to wearing loose in an attempt to cover up the bald spot.

(Also, in part, because she couldn't put her hair up without help.)

Jacob ran his fingers over what was left of the wound—a thin, raised line, which would probably stay scarred…unless she used magic. His soulful brown eyes met hers and she shivered with the level of sincerity and sorrow inside his gaze.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Hattie," he told her softly. His eyes danced in the light of the bonfire. "You don't know how much it killed me knowing were hurt."

"I don't remember much from that day," Hattie told him, truthfully. Before the accident was a blur, and after the accident felt like a fever-induced dream. "I'm sorry I worried you."

He caressed her cheek with his warm, calloused fingers—she even thought he might kiss her now, finally, in the firelight. But then Beau interrupted, Bella trailing behind him slowly.

The Swans were really, _really _good at interrupting Hattie's Hollywood moments.

"So, you're who Hattie's been caught up on," cackled her older cousin mischievously. Jacob greeted him warmly with a complicated fist bump—_boys._ "How've you been, man?"

The trio chatted for a little bit and Hattie stayed tucked under Jacob's arm like a baby bird. They were bantering about the monster of a truck Billy had sold Charlie, which Jacob had been glad to be rid of. Apparently, Billy wouldn't let him work on another car when there was a perfectly functioning one in their driveway.

"Wow, so you build cars?" Bella asked, impressed.

"When I have free time, and parts," Jacob agreed. His arm was thrown over her shoulder and Hattie held onto the hand like a lifeline. "You wouldn't happen to know where I can get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he added jokingly.

"Sorry," Bella laughed. "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes open for you."

Jacob flashed Bella and appreciative grin. It wasn't in the fishing, expectant way of her other admirers—he was simply friendly, enjoying their banter. But Lauren noticed and was quick to be snarky.

"You know Bella, Jacob?" Lauren asked—in a nasally, insolent tone—from across the fire. Hattie scowled at her. Even though _Hattie _was the one wrapped up in Jacob's embrace, Lauren had a problem with Bella and took every opportunity to show it.

"I've kind of known the Swans since I was born," Hattie's sort-of-date laughed freely.

"How nice," Lauren said, but she didn't sound like she thought it was very nice at all. She couldn't leave well enough alone. "Bella," she called again. "I was just saying to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn't anyone think to invite them?"

Her expression of concern was unconvincing, and she came across as plain nasty. Hattie didn't like it one bit, scowling and holding tighter to Jacob's hand. He tightened his arm around her in response, instinctive.

Luckily, an older boy from the reservation spoke up. He was really more of a man than a boy—his voice was incredibly deep, and he was tall and well-muscled. "You mean Dr. Cullen's family?"

Hattie noticed that his words caused Bella to perk up. Her obsession with the Cullens was getting a _little _out of control.

"Yes, do you know them?" Lauren asked condescendingly, turning halfway toward the tall native.

"The Cullens don't come here," he said, in a tone that closed the subject.

Hattie was surprised at that. The Cullens seemed like a perfectly nice family—Dr. Cullen was an incredible doctor. Sure, they had a dangerous aura, like they were bombs only second from exploding…but nobody else knew that. She was the only one who could feel it.

Jacob and her cousins continued chatting idly—about whether Forks was driving them insane, cars, just everything. Hattie was enjoying herself just being near him, her magic twining playfully about, indiscernible to the muggles.

It happened so fast.

The tall, older boy walked by them, heading out toward the darkened beach. It'd been so long since she felt the presence of magic that when he slid by and she felt the spirit inside of him, a coil of her magic reached toward it. She stiffened—he didn't notice, he couldn't, not unless he _was _a wizard. She was quick to quiet her magic down, pulling it in toward her, all of the rules she had always been taught roiling around in her brain. There was panic, a war waging inside her mind. _Be diligent._

Hattie hadn't gotten a good enough taste of his aura to be sure, but he felt different from everyone surrounding her.

He felt like home.

"Hattie?" Jacob asked. "Are you okay?"

They'd stopped talking. Jacob could feel her tensed body below his arm.

"Yeah—uh, yeah. You know what, I'll be right back," Hattie told him, smiling toothily. He unraveled her from his body and let her go, still watching her concernedly as she followed a target he couldn't see down the beach.

He must've been making his way for the far edge of the forest, his stride fast. She prowled behind him, unleashing magic she hadn't used since she got to Forks. Notice-me-nots, silencing charms. She even put a featherweight charm on her body to stop the sand from sinking under her feet.

When she got close enough, even with her charms he seemed to notice something amiss. He was looking around, eyes sliding right over her, but his nose was working like he could smell something. He couldn't smell her, right?

She was several yards away still when his aura hit her like a brick.

No, he definitely was _not _a wizard. Wizards felt like…ozone, electricity crackling through a static-filled sky, like burning, sizzling power and petrichor. Wizards oozed magic, and it was tied to their very beings—it ran through their veins like blood, encircled their hearts, formed a core deep within their chests.

He had none of these qualities.

But he was something entirely other. Something Hattie had never felt before.

He felt ancient and wise like he held all the knowledge of his ancestors. Like he'd lived in the heart of a mighty oak for hundreds of years. What she'd mistaken for magic was something she could only describe as pure spirit, wild, windy, a force to be reckoned with. At the same time, that same mischievous energy that many of the Quileute tribe exuded came from him—only stronger, intense. Standing next to him, bathing in his aura, she felt like she could run thirty miles through the deepest Olympian forests, through rivers, over fallen trees…and never get tired. The atmosphere around him crackled with a rejuvenating, resonating, _refreshing _energy. When she saw the moonlight reflect in his eyes, it was almost like there was a physical spirit emanating from him; an overlay, ghostly, more of an impression than an actual image, of a proud wolf blurred atop the body of a man.

Nobody had noticed—but then, nobody else could read auras.

It was like nothing Hattie could explain. She followed him down the beach and to the edge of the woods, aching for the knowledge he held within his being.

But finally, she lost him. He knew the woods like the back of his hands and was paranoid that someone was following him—she could feel his aura get further and further away until suddenly, not only could she not feel him, she couldn't see him either.

It was maddening.

It was exciting.

Hattie was nearly back to the bonfire before she remembered to release the spells she'd placed upon herself, drawing her magic back into its resting place among her core. It had gotten a taste of freedom and was unhappy to be caged back up, but she didn't hesitate to lock it away.

She hadn't kept her guard up—she vowed that Professor would never find out about this. She'd been far too careful for far too long to have made such a novice mistake.

The local boy hadn't been a wizard, but she hadn't known that when her magic brushed his aura. She'd been lucky.

If tonight taught her anything, it was the importance of keeping her guard up—even in places of peace.

* * *

_Alright, that's it for tonight! :) On AO3 I generally update once or twice a week (usually on the weekend), so I'll try to follow the same schedule here. If you liked it so far, please review! :D_

_A few notes so you don't get your hopes up:_

_* Hattie knows about the pack, but will not find out who the members are until New Moon era_

_* Hattie knows about vampires, but will not find out the Cullens are vampires for a long time still _

_* Remember this is a drama so things are supposed to be a little dramatic :P_


	14. Chapter 14

_\- Follows the events of Twilight: 7_

_\- Angst! Love me some Hattie Angst._

_\- Sort of got away from me, to be honest. The story decided it was time for more of Hattie's backstory. I don't regret it, but I just thought I'd warn you._

* * *

**14.**

_That was the thing about heartache. You never could erase it. You carried it with you, always. ―Kass Morgan_

* * *

Eric found Hattie before she could reach the bonfire. "Hattie! Where have you been?"

She jerked at the sound of his voice. She'd been trudging along the beach slowly, her eyes scanning the shore unseeingly. For some reason she couldn't get the feel of the native boy's aura out of her head—the image of the ghostly wolf overlaid atop him.

"I took a walk," she responded. It was not untrue, so the words came easily, smoothly to her.

Eric seemed pleased. She could see him drawing connections between her leaving Jacob to go take a walk…alone. She didn't like the look his smug face wore, though.

"I just needed some air, Eric. Don't look that far into it," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. He was friendly—not in the honest-to-goodness sweet way that Mike usually was, but Eric was nice enough. He just didn't seem to understand the boundary between _nice _and _creepy. _

"Yeah, yeah," he told her, delighted at her defensiveness. "Anyways, we're packing up. It's going to rain soon."

"Alright, I'm coming…" Hattie sighed.

She didn't regret running off after that boy—she only wished it hadn't cut into her already sparse time with Jacob. She tried to remind herself there was nothing stopping her from coming to see him, and that soon they would be headed to the dance together.

Hattie tried to picture Jacob in a suit, which was nearly impossible. He seemed to relish in the freedom of nakedness, if his current half-dressed state was anything to go by.

Most of the natives had dispersed by the time they reached the bonfire ring. Hattie could see that most of their group was already making the trek up toward their vehicles.

Hattie spied Jacob and Bella on the far side of the bonfire ring, but Beau was nowhere to be found. She headed over to them, noting the whiter-than-usual look on Bella's face with worry.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, stopping at Bella's side. She examined her cousin's face concernedly.

Jacob was chuckling. "I just told her a scary story. Must've spooked her a little bit."

Bella muttered an agreement. The faraway look in her eyes made Hattie curious as to what the story could've been about, but she didn't ask.

"I guess we're getting ready to leave," Hattie informed the duo contritely. "Eric just about jumped me when I was walking up. He seems to think we've had a row."

"A what?" Jacob questioned, then looked around as if trying to figure out who Eric was.

"You know, a row? Emm…like we've bickered."

"Ohh…" Jacob laughed. "It's funny, I'm so used to you and your accent that I keep forgetting the UK is another culture."

A drop of rain landed on Hattie's cheek.

"I guess it's time to go," she sighed.

Jacob rocked on his heels, looking down. After a moment, he asked, bashfully, "So…when I get the Rabbit up and running…"

"You should come see me in Forks," Hattie finished. She felt guilty that she hadn't made enough time for him recently. "And next time Charlie comes down to visit Billy, I will try to come too."

His too-white grin stretched across his teeth. Hattie was once again caught in the intensity of his eyes. "And I'll see you at the dance."

"And I'll see you at the dance," Hattie concurred.

Hattie shivered a little as she and Bella tramped across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few more drops of rain were beginning to fall, and she had, stupidly, forgotten a jacket. Beau was helping the others load everything into the back of the Suburban. She stuck by him closely, so they could get a seat together.

Bella seemed to have the same idea and somehow, they managed to sit together in the back of Mike's car. Hattie sat between them, perched half on each of their laps. It was a much more pleasant (though still slightly awkward) experience than this morning.

Bella used Hattie's shoulder as a headrest, closing her eyes against the world. Whatever scary story Jacob had told her had really taken its toll.

—x—

Bella and Hattie both went straight to the loft once they got home, leaving Beau to make their excuses to Charlie. To be fair, it _was _getting late and they'd had a long, exciting day at the beach. Perhaps he would simply think they were sun-drunk with the type of post-sun sleepiness even caffeine couldn't cure.

She helped Hattie into her sleep shirt and they said goodnight, though Bella wasn't entirely sure she could sleep now. When Hattie padded off to bed, Bella dug out her earbuds and jammed them into her phone, scrolling through her music. She needed something that would take her mind off all of the legends Jacob had told her while Hattie was gone.

Bella found a playlist Phil had shared with her—it was an album from one of his favorite bands, but they used a little too much bass and shrieking for her tastes. She stuffed her headphones into her ears, laying down on her bed. Then she hit the play button, turning the volume up until it hurt her ears.

_Listening to music at high volume may cause hearing loss_, her phone prompted, but she turned the volume up higher still.

So she laid there, using the loud music to short-circuit her brain. She listened to the album on repeat, concentrating carefully on the music. She tried to understand the lyrics, unravel the drum patterns. Soon she knew all of the words to the choruses. Surprisingly, once Bella got past the noise, she actually liked the band.

And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for her to think—which was the whole purpose of the exercise. She listened to the album again and again until, finally, she fell asleep.

Bella opened her eyes onto a familiar, dread-inducing scene. She was, in some part of her consciousness, aware that she was dreaming—but it didn't stop the blind panic she felt.

She was in the Forks High School parking lot. Tyler's van was smashed around the edge of Hattie's hatchback. Bella had relived this scene many times over the last seven weeks—stress seemed to trigger it. But tonight, it was different.

There were no other cars in the parking lot. Not even the tan one that Edward had braced himself against—just Hattie's hatchback and the van.

Tyler's body was in the van, but he was unmoving. Hattie lay brokenly on the icy pavement, Edward's shaking form hovering over her. Everything seemed to be in slow motion—Bella wandered slowly toward Tyler, her footsteps echoing eerily in the empty parking lot.

She screamed when she saw his body. He had to be dead. His jugular was ripped out, vacant eyes staring at the roof of his vehicle.

"Run, Bella, you have to run!" a sudden voice yelled. She turned, her face still horrified. Jacob was there, his face frightened.

"This way, Bella!" Beau's voice called, coming from the other side of the vacant parking lot. Bella could only barely see him in the distance.

"Why?" Bella asked. She was desperate now to get to Hattie—her prone form, Edward's shaking shoulders.

But Jacob let go of her hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the icy pavement. He twitched on the ground and Bella watched in fascinated horror.

"Jacob!" she screamed. But he was gone—in his place was a large red-brown wolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from her, pointing toward the scene of the accident. The hair on his shoulders was bristled, low growls issuing from behind exposed fangs.

"Bella, run!" Beau's voice called again, but she didn't turn. The sun was coming out from behind the clouds and Edward was turning.

His skin glowed faintly. He faced her, blood around his mouth and down his chest—his eyes were black, dangerous. He held out one hand to beckon her toward him.

The wolf at her feet growled, darting around the duo to place himself protectively in front of Hattie. Edward's eyes followed him, but he didn't turn.

Bella took a single step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth were sharp, pointed.

"Trust me," he purred.

She took another step.

The wolf launched himself across the space between Hattie and the vampire, fangs aiming for the throat.

"No!" Bella screamed, wrenching herself upright out of her bed.

The sudden movement knocked her phone off the bed, pulling the headphones out of the jack. Loud music suddenly blared throughout the room and Bella scrambled to turn it off, scrubbing her hand across her face wearily.

Her light was still on, and she was still fully dressed—shoes and all. She clicked the screen of her phone on, a bit disoriented. It was five-thirty in the morning. She groaned, leaning forward to pull her shoes off her aching feet.

She was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. Bella wiggled out of her jeans, kicking them off slowly. She tried to slow her heartbeat down, truly tried to slip back into relaxation. Even as she finger combed the plaits out of her hair she already knew it wouldn't work.

Even if she wasn't wide awake, even if she _was _on the brink of sleep…Her brain had conjured up the images she'd desperately tried to avoid.

She'd just have to face them, then.

It wasn't Jacob's fault—after Hattie and Beau had both gone off to do their own things, she had coaxed the stories out of him. The tall boy from the previous night—she learned his name was Sam—had dredged up a curiosity Bella hadn't been able to shake. The way he said "The Cullens don't come here" had sounded more like "The Cullens _can't _come here."

So, when Hattie had run off to 'take a breather' or whatever she'd claimed later, and the other boys had cajoled Beau (who they assumed was buff and strong due to his massive height) into helping them pack up, Bella struck. She was kind of embarrassed about it now. She'd obviously never come between Hattie and any of her love interests, but Bella would admit she'd done some flirting.

Jacob had seen right through it, of course. She could tell by the amused lilt of his lips, as if Bella was doing something extraordinarily entertaining. Luckily, he was too nice to call her on it.

Bella kicked her jeans into the hamper. She was trying to decide how to go about what she wanted to do. After a moment of hesitation, she realized she'd need to wait until either Hattie or Beau woke up—the only computers in the Swan residence resided in their bedrooms. With that in mind, Bella decided it was time to start getting ready for the day.

Bella gathered up her bathroom bag and made her way toward the bathroom, stopping only when she saw that Hattie's door was cracked. Her cousin usually slept with it closed, so seeing it ajar gave Bella sudden flashbacks to her horrendous dream. She was overwhelmed with the compulsive need to check that Hattie was still breathing.

Hattie was still sleeping when Bella peeked in on her. Her cousin was not really a cute sleeper. (Bella had her doubts that _anyone _was a cute sleeper, honestly.) She tossed and turned and mumbled in her sleep. Usually all her blankets ended up on the floor—today was no exception. The duvet and most of the pillows were strewn across the room and Hattie was tangled up in the remaining sheet, spread-eagle in the center of the bed.

But her chest raised and lowered with each breath, and Bella's panic was delayed for the minute.

She dragged out her shower as long as possible—shampooing twice, took extra caution whilst shaving, leaving her conditioner in for an extra minute. She waddled back to her room afterward, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, to get dressed.

Bella dressed herself, blow-dried and re-braided her hair, brushed her teeth, made her bed, cleaned her room. She took great care to extend the duration of each activity, being extra thorough, but Hattie was still not awake by the time she was done at seven.

With a sigh, Bella slipped down the stairs and went to get herself some cereal in the house. The ground was cold on her bare feet, still chilled from the night, so she tiptoed until she got in the door.

As she made her bowl of cereal, she noted that Charlie's cruiser wasn't in the driveway. He must be fishing again.

Bella was just finishing her breakfast, scrolling idly through her phone, when Hattie came in. The girl was a mess: clearly, she'd managed to undress herself, take a shower, and tried to redress herself. She'd only gotten so far, though—her leggings were on perfectly, as were her slippers, but the oversized t-shirt she'd chosen to put on was askew. Only her good arm was in the sleeve, she'd just pulled the shirt over the one in the cast. And she wasn't wearing a bra.

Bella couldn't help it—she gave a startled laugh, much to Hattie's displeasure.

"I _tried_," the small girl insisted with frustration. "Give me a little credit."

"Another week or two and you'll be out of the cast," Bella laughed, helping her right her shirt. Even with Bella's two arms it was difficult to get Hattie's arm in the sleeve—the cast was completely immobile—but eventually they managed to fix it.

"What're you doing up so early?" Hattie grumbled, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Charlie must've made it before he left. "It's Sunday."

"Bad dreams," Bella shuddered.

"Was Jacob's story really that scary?" Hattie insisted, eyebrows drawing together.

Bella didn't know how much of it she wanted to share. Some of the secrets, the ones about the Cullens, weren't hers to give away. Finally, she settled that a lie via omission wasn't nearly as bad as a blatant lie.

"He just told me some of the Quileute stories. About how legend has it they're descended from wolves," Bella explained hesitantly. "It was my…imagination…that truly scared me."

Hattie surprised Bella by laughing a little. "I can't believe you found that scary. I love the Quileute legends. Do you think if I marry Jacob he'll be able to tell me the more secret ones?"

Bella and Hattie both giggled at the proclamation. She was relieved Hattie hadn't looked too far into her answer—she really didn't like lying to her cousin-come-sister.

"Anyways," Bella said, still coming down from their giggle fit. "Do you think I could borrow your computer today?"

"Oh," Hattie smiled. "Sure, any time. It's right on my desk."

After breakfast, which Bella dragged out as long as possible in an attempt to prolong the inevitable, they ventured back to the loft together. Bella lounged on Hattie's bed whilst her cousin sat at the desk, writing idly in a huge, ancient-looking journal.

Hattie's laptop was a shiny, metallic baby pink. Bella had only seen it once in the entire time she'd been in Forks, when Hattie was typing up an essay after school one day. Even as Bella booted it up, she had the strange realization that Hattie didn't use it often.

This was confirmed when Hattie looked up at her through the mirror over her desk, grinning. "I don't think I've opened that thing in a month."

It wasn't exactly a secret that Hattie had money—and a lot of it. The girl never asked Charlie for anything, yet was always wearing nice, brand-name clothing. She had waved off Tyler's parents when they tried to pay for accident related expenses: the tow truck, medical bills, even offering to buy her a new car since their son had totaled hers. But Hattie had just smiled and shook her head. Bella had the feeling that Aunt Lily and Uncle James were pretty well-off when they died, and had left Hattie set for at least the foreseeable future.

But Hattie was pretty modest about it; it wasn't often she splurged on material things for herself. She didn't flaunt her money with ostentatious things, like Bella felt the Cullens did.

Bella frowned at the thought and finally tried to log into the computer, only to see it was password locked.

"Hey, Hattie. What's the password?" she called.

Hattie glanced up, taking the end of her pen out of her mouth. Her eyes were suddenly heavy. "Oh…it's, um…Cecelia. C-E-C-E-L-I-A."

Her tone was reserved. She wouldn't quite meet Bella's eyes. Bella tried to wrack her brain, but the name wasn't familiar—if Hattie had mentioned her, it had been only briefly.

"Awesome, that worked. Who's Cecelia?" she asked innocently, already pulling up Google.

She assumed the answer would be something like—a best friend, a celebrity, a relative's name. She could think of a couple reasons why Hattie would look so downtrodden at the name, but the way the girl was acting wasn't normal. She looked like she was grieving, or perhaps reliving battle.

It was a testament to the fact that there were still many things about Hattie that the Swans didn't know.

Finally, still not looking at Bella, Hattie replied in that soft, broken voice. "Cecelia is the little sister of one of my friends."

"You must love her," Bella commented. She typed in one word, slowly, to the search engine. _Vampire._

Hattie shrugged. Bella's eyes flickered up to meet hers—they were emerald green, looking at Bella without seeing her. Bella's brows pulled together.

"Yeah, I guess I do," Hattie agreed. She sounded like she wanted to say more.

"Hattie?" Bella prompted. "What is it?"

Her cousin turned back to face the enormous journal, using her thumb to ruffle the pages absent mindedly. Even through the mirror, she didn't meet Bella's eyes again.

"It's complicated."

"I'm sure I can keep up," Bella responded. Hattie was hunched over the desk now. "If you want to talk about it, I mean."

"I don't know how," Hattie admitted. "There's—secrets that aren't mine to give. Cecelia's story wouldn't make sense without them."

Bella lowered the lid of the laptop, staring at Hattie's hunched back. She was intrigued, yet worried. _More secrets. The Cullens' secrets. Hattie's secrets. _Bella was beginning to realize that there were so many more layers to the world than she had ever realized.

She yearned to know Hattie's secrets, but her cousin was obviously traumatized. She wouldn't push…for now.

"So…tell me the basics," Bella said, finally. "It doesn't matter if it doesn't make sense. It just matters that you can tell me anything, if you need to."

Hattie was silent for long enough that she wondered if her cousin had even heard her. Then, still silent as a mouse, the girl came over to the bedside table and rifled through its drawer.

She handed Bella a picture.

It was a young boy. He had messy brown hair, but where the low summer sun touched, it shone deep red. He wasn't looking at the camera, his dark eyes were on the infant in his arms, a look of utter adoration on his face. The baby was asleep. She had the slightly thin, pink look about her that many newborns do, her skin sort of blotchy. Her pink swaddle was unraveled, revealing a soft pink onesie—her little leg was stuck in the air, toes spread wide.

On the back of the picture, in a messy script, read _Cedric & Cecelia. _It was dated nearly six years ago.

Bella handed the picture back, wondering what she should say about it, but before she could open her mouth she caught sight of Hattie. She was staring at the picture with watery eyes, something like regret painted across her face.

"Cedric was one of my closest friends," Hattie told her, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "It's hard to explain…this picture was from the happiest day of my life. My people…god, it's really had to explain."

"It's okay," Bella soothed, blinking quickly. Her mind was trying to piece things together—but she didn't have any matching pieces. The _Cedric __was_and the _my people, _it was all mind boggling to her.

"It's not," Hattie argued bitterly. "Cecelia's birth was a big deal, that's all I can really say about it. When she was born she lit up our world—not just Cedric's, but mine, all our friends, all the adults in our life. I was eleven, Cedric was fourteen. This picture was taken at the celebration of her birth. It was the last time I saw Cedric before he died."

Bella jolted with shock. Of all the things she'd been expecting to hear, that was not one of them. And the story still didn't solve the question—if _Cedric _had been Hattie's friend, why was _Cecelia _her password?

She opened her mouth to give out platitudes, but realized they wouldn't help any. Instead, she murmured, "What happened?"

Hattie gave a short, hollow laugh. It didn't sound right coming from her usually cheerful cousin. Bella had often, privately, thought that Hattie was like a baby bird—all wild feathers and happy, chirpy tones. This tone didn't match that narrative at all.

"Nobody really knows," she said, turning her back on Bella again. "We have our suspicions. He was seventeen."

"And Cecelia—"

"I met Cecelia one time nearly six years ago," Hattie's ragged monotone might as well have been a shout. "I held her in my arms and I thought, if something so precious can be born into this hellish world, then clearly it can't be so hellish after all. I hold on to that picture because it is a reminder of the Hattie I had been then, the Hattie who held a newborn baby and thought, of all the families she could've been born to, of all the people her light could've touched—some deity decided to give her to _us_.

"Bella, I think about Cecelia to this day. Does she look like him? Is she in school? Does she know how many people love her? I received word in January that Cedric's father, _Cecelia's _father, was killed. I have nightmares every night about whose death I'll get news of next. With each passing day without word from my friends back home, my panic grows. I haven't heard from anybody in _seven weeks. _But still, somehow, I hold that picture in my hands and I think of Cecelia's sweet face and I know that any world that could give me _her _is worth holding on hope for."

Hattie's shoulders heaved breathlessly when she finished her rant. Tears flowed freely down her face and Bella was shocked. She honestly had never been more speechless in her entire life.

"Hattie, I'm so…" confused? Sorry? Either would work in this situation, but neither felt appropriate. She wondered why Hattie's friends hadn't contacted her in so long. She wondered why they were dying. She wondered what Hattie had gone through to get her into this state, to make her think so poorly of the world.

She just

_wondered. _

"I told you it was complicated," Hattie said, wiping her eyes again. Slowly she seemed to regain her composure, though she didn't let go of the picture of Cecelia and Cedric. "There are so many things you don't know."

Was it strange that Bella thought she sounded just a little bit like Edward, then? Cryptic and self-loathing, but with a longing to unburden herself.

"I would listen," Bella promised. "If you wanted me to."

"It's not a matter of want," Hattie whispered, and went back to her journal.

Afterward, it took Bella an embarrassingly long time to compose herself. She stared at the screen of Hattie's laptop, the colorful **Google **logo, purposely not looking in her cousin's direction. Occasionally, though, in her peripheral, she saw the tremors running through Hattie's shoulders.

_It's not a matter of want, _Bella thought, bewildered, shaken. What sort of secret was Hattie hiding?

Sighing, listening to the idle scratch of Hattie's pen on paper, Bella went back to her previous issue. She needed to focus on one thing at a time.

At least she was reasonably sure that _Hattie_ was human, Bella thought, staring at the query she'd never finished. _Vampire?_

It felt ridiculous. Her incognito tab stared at her wickedly as she hit enter, seeming to relish the fact that Bella was too ashamed to leave a trail.

There were, of course, tens of millions of results.

The first result was Wikipedia, not an entirely reliable source but at least it was a start. The website touted that a vampire was an undead being from folklore which fed on the "vital force" (usually blood) of the living. Apparently, the first appearance of the English word _vampire _was in the 1700s, written then as _vampyre. _

But vampires existed for millennia in myths and legends. There was the Albanian _shtriga, _which fed on the blood of infants—Bella crossed that off the list immediately. The Greek had _vrykolakas, _the Romanians had _strigoi. _

There were movies and TV shows and books dedicated to the subject. The Encyclopedia Britannica, History Channel, and National Geographic all had articles about it.

Then she found a promising site—Vampires A-Z. Its simplistic, academic layout made it load hilariously quickly, even on Charlie's weak Wi-Fi connection. Most of the images the site used were broken, perhaps having expired from whatever domain they were once hosted on. Even the ads were old, outdated.

Still—it was a useful resource for Bella. It contained an alphabetical listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world.

She read through the descriptions of each myth carefully, thoroughly—even if most were inane, insane, or completely improbable, they were interesting nonetheless. She tried to look for anything that sounded remotely familiar, let alone plausible. Most of the vampire myths centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they also seemed like constructs created to explain away the high mortality rates of young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity.

Only three entries really caught Bella's attention: the Romanian _Varacolaci_, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak _Nelapsi, _a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the _Stregoni_ _benefici_.

About the latter there was only one brief sentence.

_Stregoni benefici: _An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy to all evil vampires.

It was a relief, that one small entry: the one myth among hundreds that claimed the existence of good vampires.

Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jacob's stories or Bella's own observations. She'd made a little catalogue in her mind as she'd read and carefully compared it to each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob's criteria: blood-drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.

And there was another problem, one Bella remembered from the small amount of vampire-related media she had consumed, which was backed up by today's reading—vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to cinders. They slept in coffins all day and only came out at night.

Aggravated, Bella exited the browser, closing the laptop with a small _click. _She felt so embarrassed. Here she was, on a Sunday, sitting in Hattie's bed researching vampires on a baby-pink laptop. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Maybe it was stress, maybe hitting her head truly _had _knocked the sense out of her.

She needed to get out of the house, but there was nowhere she wanted to go that didn't include a three-day drive. She stormed out of Hattie's room, scarcely calling out 'thank you' as she left.

After she'd pulled on her boots and her raincoat, Bella stomped out the garage door. She felt like a child, ignoring her truck sullenly as she started east on foot, angling across the yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. Beau was in the kitchen window, looking like he'd just woken up. When he noticed her, he waved, but she didn't respond.

It didn't take long until she was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible. The only sound was the squish of damp earth under her feet, the sudden cries of jays filtering down through the trees.

Bella followed the narrow trail into the forest for a long time, losing herself in her anger. It was obvious nobody used the trail frequently—there were few neighbors, and Bella couldn't exactly picture Charlie out here. Perhaps Hattie, with her love of all things athletic…but since the accident, even she hadn't been out here. Fallen trees—some young, some as big around as Bella—littered the path. One path was completely blocked by the trunk of a huge tree, and Bella split off onto a fork in the trail to avoid climbing over it.

Her anger slowly ebbed, and when it did, Bella slowed. She mucked about, slowly, until she spotted another fallen tree resting against the trunk of one of its neighbors. This one must've fallen more recently, as it wasn't completely covered in the carpet of moss everything else was. Bella used it as a bench, tucking her rain jacket between herself and the damp bark, leaning against the tree behind her.

She had overestimated herself—this was the wrong place to come when her nerves were jacked up, her brain short-circuiting. It was too deep, too dark…too alike to all of the scary stories she'd been reading. Now that there was no longer the sound of her soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. Even the birds were quiet. The ferns stood higher than her head now that she was seated, and she knew that someone could walk by on the path, three feet away, and never see her.

Here in the trees, it was much easier for her to believe the absurdities that had embarrassed her before. Nothing had changed in the forest for thousands of years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in the green haze than they had in Hattie's clear-cut bedroom.

It began to rain, rustling the leaves and the grass. Bella focused on the sound as she sat there, contemplating.

There were two vital questions that she needed to answer, unwilling though she were.

First, she had to decide if what Jacob had said about the Cullens could possibly be true.

Immediately her mind responded with a resounding negative. It was silly—and morbid—to believe such ridiculous notions. But what, then? There was no rational explanation for how she was alive at that very moment. She listed again in her head the things she'd witnessed: the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from gold to black, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more—small things that registered slowly—how they seemed to eat with forced, mechanical movements…as if it were an obligation rather than a need. The disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way he sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases better fit to the style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom.

He had skipped class the day they'd done blood typing. He hadn't said no to the beach trip until he knew where they were going. He seemed to know what everyone was thinking…except her family.

Bella even remembered the car accident—Hattie's blood. His family had been there one second and gone the next. Edward had been staring at the blood on his hands, shaking intensely, like he was…strained. Even his eyes, previously golden, had gone pitch black…

He told her he was the villain, he was dangerous.

Could the Cullens be vampires?

Well, they were something. Something outside the possibility of rational justification was taking place in front of her incredulous eyes. Whether it was Jacob's cold ones or Bella's own superhero theory, Edward Cullen was not…human. He was something more.

So, the answer was—maybe. That would have to do for now.

And, the most important question of all. What would she do if it were true?

If Edward was a vampire—she could hardly make herself think the words—then what would she do? The thought of involving Hattie or even Beau crossed her mind, but she tossed it out. Bella couldn't even believe herself; anyone else, even those closest to her, would have her committed.

There were only two options that seemed practical. The first was to take his advice: be smart, avoid him as much as possible. Cancel their plans, go back to ignoring each other as much as possible. Tell him to leave her alone—and mean it.

She was gripped with the sudden agony of despair as she considered that alternative. Her mind rejected the pain, quickly skipping to the next option.

Bella could act exactly as she had been. After all, if Edward was something…sinister, he'd done nothing to hurt her so far. In fact, she wouldn't even be alive if he hadn't acted so quickly. So quickly, she thought to herself, it could have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could it be? Her mind spun around in answerless circles.

There was one thing Bella was sure of, if she was sure of anything. The dark Edward in her dreams had been a manifestation of her fear of the words Jacob had spoken, and not Edward himself. Even so, when she'd screamed out in terror at the werewolf's lunge, it wasn't fear of the wolf that brought the cry of 'no' to her lips. It was the fear that Edward would be harmed—even as he called to her with Tyler's blood running down his shirt, she'd feared for him.

So, that was her answer then. Bella didn't know if it had ever been a choice—she was already in too deep. Now that she knew—_if _she knew—there was nothing to be done about her frightening secret.

Because, when she thought of him—of his voice, of his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality—she wanted nothing more than to be with him right that moment. Even if…no, she couldn't think it. Not there, alone in the darkening forest.

Bella rose, shivering, from her place of concealment, following the path. Her loft beckoned her with promises of warmth and dry socks, and the company of others to settle her unease.

* * *

_Happy Saturday! I just felt like posting another chapter, since I started working on chapter 40. If you have any comments or questions, leave a review! I try to answer every review. :)_


	15. Chapter 15

**15.**

"_Grief can be a burden, but also an anchor. You get used to the weight, how it holds you in place." ―Sarah Dessen_

Beau looked up as Bella trailed in. It was lunchtime now and he had a sandwich before him at the table. He was working on a paper for English which was due on Wednesday, but it wasn't coming along very well. He was too caught up in his thoughts about everything else to think about Shakespeare.

Even though he was excited to go to the dance with Angela, Beau was still enthralled by the mysterious Edythe Cullen. He'd cycled through all sorts of emotions concerning her: longing—even that first day when he met her curious, honey-gold eyes—and curiosity of his own, when his presence seemed to drive her to frustration. If they weren't in class, she'd leave the area when he entered it. Then, of course, after Bella and Hattie's accident when, for some reason, Edythe stopped looking at him. She didn't seem interested by him anymore, but in an entirely manufactured way. It was like she was pretending he was uninteresting.

It drove him mad. It made him question if she was even a likeable person, if she pretended he was nothing.

That was part of the reason he'd allowed his crush on Angela to fester and boil over. It was…_easier, _even if that felt a bit smarmy to say. Angela was smart, and easy-going, and genuine, and cute. She was, first and foremost, his friend. That was what he wanted to base a relationship on—if he couldn't be friends with his partner, how could they build a successful relationship?

And, truthfully, he wasn't sure if he could be friends with Edythe Cullen. He tried not to judge a book by its cover, but the way she acted was…petty, sullen. Like a small child playing tricks.

Beau took a bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly, thinking about the bronze-haired girl. He had teased Bella about being so obsessed with Edward Cullen, but to be honest—he was pretty absorbed with Edythe. There was just something about her…she was different from the other girls in Forks.

She was small without being delicate, with sinewy muscles under her pale skin. Her bronze hair and golden eyes were otherworldly, somehow. Edythe moved with a grace that was almost unnatural.

Actually—she reminded him a lot of Hattie, in a way. Hattie was also small (rather smaller than Edythe, truth be told). Hattie was relatively toned and held herself in the same self-assured, strong way that Edythe did. Even the eyes—Hattie's were green, but both girls' eyes had an unearthly knowledge behind them.

The only thing Hattie lacked was the sheer level of beauty that Edythe had. Sure, his cousin was cute (Beau often thought of her like a baby bird), but she was nowhere near the same level as Edythe or the other Cullens. She had a normal, everyday sort of beauty: a clear complexion, a bright face. Most of her good looks were, in Beau's opinion, built on Hattie's personality. She was endearing, and that went a long way.

"Are you working on the English paper?" Bella finally said, in lieu of greeting. She was fixing her own lunch now, having shed her raincoat by the door.

Beau glanced up, swallowing his food. "Uh-huh. Stupid Shakespeare."

"There's nothing wrong with Shakespeare," Bella chuckled, rolling her eyes. He noticed that her demeanor was lighter than when he'd seen her heading out this morning—perhaps she'd really needed to take a breather. "Let me go get my books, I'll join you."

"See if Hattie wants to come, too," Beau advised.

"I'll try," Bella agreed, but she looked weary. "I'm not sure if she will, though. She's…having a rough day."

Beau's eyes, which had drifted back to his paper, shot up to his sister's. She had a faraway look in her eyes, deep in thought. He had never seen Hattie have a 'rough day' (not rough enough that she would lock herself away, at least). Beau couldn't imagine what had caused it.

"What happened?" he questioned. "She was fine last night."

"I—might have pried a little," Bella admitted. "I borrowed her laptop and the password was a name, so I asked about it. She got really upset, so I told her I was there if she needed someone to listen."

"That doesn't seem like prying. Why would that upset her?" Beau wondered.

"Um…I don't know, Beau. It seems like Hattie's been through a lot more than either of us realized. She hasn't heard from home in nearly two months. She's stressed. I—I think she needs someone, but she's afraid to need someone."

Beau placed his chin in his hand, staring at the table unseeingly. He'd noticed that, too. He spent most of his schooldays with their cousin: they had conversations that didn't include Bella. But whenever he tried to ask about her life back in the UK, out of curiosity or in a bonding attempt, she tended to give him answers that seemed to be half-truths, or just vague non-answers.

He'd asked her about this 'Professor' man she'd been tutored by for eleven years, wondering what subjects she'd learned from him. Hattie had told him "Oh, a little of everything." She wouldn't elaborate, either.

Or when he'd asked her about her friends—surely Hattie, who was friendly, chipper, outgoing, athletic…surely she'd have friends. But she'd gotten quiet and only answered, "I didn't get to see them much, but we talked a lot." He'd thought this was strange—she never talked to them here. "It's…really difficult to contact them from here," she'd told him.

And her parents—she either didn't know, or wouldn't say, _anything _about them. Perhaps it was a sore subject, but often he thought he saw longing in her eyes when he asked questions.

And she never talked about home. In fact, she didn't seem to associate the UK with "home" at all, even with her strong since of patriotism. It was always _my people, _not _my country: _"My people mostly keep to themselves, so I didn't get to see my friends much." Or "My people still prefer letters to technology."

"D'you think we need to have, like, an intervention or something? With Charlie?" Beau asked, dreading it even as he said it.

"No, Beau," Bella sighed. "I don't think it's that she doesn't _want _to talk about it. I think it's more that she…_can't_."

"You think it was that bad?" Beau asked, eyebrows raising. He tried to figure out what his sister was implying. Abuse? Neglect? What horrors did she think Hattie had gone through?

"No—'can't' like _not_ _allowed_."

Beau's mind went utterly blank at that moment. Not allowed…to talk about her life before them?

"Why do you think that?" he demanded, flailing around in his brain to latch on to any cognitive thought processes.

"Because she flat-out told me there were things she couldn't tell me," Bella stated, bluntly. "She said it wasn't that she didn't _want _to, obviously the implication being that she just couldn't."

"What do you think is going on?" Beau questioned. He was trying to connect pieces, but everything he came up with sounded embarrassingly absurd. "Like, witness protection program? A spy? A cult?"

He had been joking, trying to lighten the mood, but he could tell his words impacted Bella.

"I don't know about a spy," Bella said slowly. "But a cult seems plausible from what little I know. Her friend Cedric was killed a couple of years ago and she said that nobody knew what happened, but that they suspected. Then his dad died in January. And she told me she's been having nightmares about other people dying. Plus, she keeps talking about 'her people'. So, possibly?"

"I can't believe we're discussing this right now," Beau told her. "Seriously? A cult, Bella?"

"I don't know what to think!" Bella said indignantly. "Besides, you said it—not me!"

Beau used this new information to try and fill in the puzzle that was Heather Potter. From what little he knew about cults, they tended to be religious in origin. Hattie wasn't religious, or if she was, she kept it on the down low. And religious cults tended to be pretty poor for females, who were stereotypically married off young. If Hattie had been part of a cult, maybe they'd tried to marry her off, so she ran away? And that would explain why she would keep her religion to herself, trying to stay under the radar.

But it all felt too much like speculation—it just didn't strike Beau as the correct answer. (Or maybe it was wishful thinking. Perhaps he hated the idea of it so much that he refused to believe it.)

Still, he shook his head. "No, Bella, I think that we're pretty far off base. Just…we'll keep an eye on her. If she gets worse, we'll have to involve Charlie."

His sister nodded, still looking like she was entertaining the idea.

—x—

Hattie sat glumly at her desk, staring down at her grimoire. Her sleep the previous night hadn't been uninterrupted—she dreamt, as she told Bella, about people she loved dying.

This was a recurring theme.

Most often her dreams centered on Professor. Her dreamscape was always something fantastic: a jungle, a dungeon, pyramids in Egypt. He was, as his last missive said, "recruiting"—in Hattie's dreams they were nondescript, unassuming people. In the end they always turned out to be traitors who would turn Severus in for crimes against the regime, and Hattie would wake up as he was being brutally murdered.

More recently, though, Hattie had been dreaming of Bella or Beau dying. Somehow the regime found her—perhaps due to her magic, perhaps they'd tortured it out of Severus (something she couldn't fathom). Hattie didn't know much about the leader of the regime, a man whose ego was so large he called himself the Dark Lord. He always featured in these dreams, personally coming to shred Hattie's family to pieces.

One of the most disturbing parts of this was that the Dark Lord was always…handsome. He had slick dark hair, styled in a perfect coif atop his head. His pointy, aristocratic features made him look more bureaucratic than evil. He would speak to her in parseltongue, almost sadly, with a lopsided grin on his lips. "It's a shame," he would say. "You could be great, you know."

Sometimes Hattie dreamt that she reached out and took his hand. These dreams were always the worst—watching herself join his regime, going against everything she'd ever been taught. Slaughtering her own people. Hattie vastly preferred the nightmares where she refused his hand, dying tall and proud.

It was a testament to how awful the regime was, that she would prefer death to submission.

But these more recent nightmares had prompted Hattie to think about how utterly unprotected the Swan residence was. Even Petunia's house had been warded—atop the blood wards that were Lily Potter's dying sacrifice, Professor had added as many wards as he could without risk of the house becoming a hotspot.

So, all morning Hattie had been refreshing her knowledge of Ancient Runes, something she'd never truly excelled at. During her schooling with the man who taught her runes, she'd drawn different ward schemes in one of her grimoires—a forethought that Hattie found herself unexpectedly grateful for.

There was only one issue Hattie couldn't stop worrying about. Were she to add rune wards to the Swan residence, it would be the only spark of magic in the surrounding area. At _least_ the only magic in Forks. It would be a beacon: "Hello, here I am, come get me!"

Thus, Hattie was deliberating which was worse: being unprotected in the case that a dark wizard found her family, or putting up protections with the risk of them leading a dark wizard straight to her?

She couldn't decide on the answer.

There were deciding factors leaning either way, honestly. Wand-wielders couldn't feel magic unless they were incredibly powerful, so her beacon would only be to those raised the way Hattie had been. At the same point, even then there was no guarantee they would be friendly wizards—and any wards she was capable of creating by herself wouldn't be enough to protect her from a truly powerful wizard, anyways. Short of casting a Fidelius on the whole property (which would cause a whole slew of problems for her, not the least that it was a two-person spell which she did not know how to cast), Hattie had no true way of making Charlie's property impenetrable.

So, with a reluctant sigh, Hattie closed the old grimoire. It made a satisfying _thunk_, the smell of parchment and ink wafting up into her nose. Her eyes fluttered closed.

There were so many things she could be doing—her English assignment, for example—but she found herself staring at the same set of objects she always did.

The galleon with the protean charm, its message still set to _PROF MSG ME IF SAFE, _lay before her on her desk. To its right was the gilded, beautiful two-way-mirror which, as usual, showed only Hattie's tired eyes. And then, furthest to the right, the bundle of letters she'd received in January.

It was now going on the second week of March.

Hattie had stopped telling herself he was going to send her a note. Perhaps he'd been kidnapped—perhaps he truly was just busy—perhaps he had forgotten about her. Perhaps he thought it would be easier for her to adjust to her new, primarily muggle, life, were he to butt out. Perhaps he was dead.

_No,_ Hattie told herself, heart fluttering. For all of Severus Snape's flaws, he was her closest ally—it was he who had raised her, he who had protected her, he who she had always thought of as a father-figure, even when he pushed her away. Somehow, Hattie thought, if Severus Snape was killed—she would feel it. There would be some part of her soul, some part of her magic—so intrinsically connected to his—that would just _know. _There would be some part of her that would be different.

He couldn't be dead.

Let him be anything else. Let him be tied in a dungeon in the Scottish Highlands—let him be trapped in a sarcophagus in Egypt—let him be poisoned by a snake in the Amazon rainforest. These were all things she could save him from.

From death he would be unrecoverable.

Hattie set her shoulders—_shoulder, _really, only her good arm was mobile—in determination. Rubbing her thumb over the face of the galleon, she changed the message.

_PROF: YOU HAVE 2 DAYS. H._

It had been long enough. She'd given him two months to contact her, with no pressure—she'd been uncharacteristically patient. Enough was enough.

Hattie was being lenient, really. Two whole days to contact her? That was more than enough time.

For good measure, in case he had done something incredibly stupid and misplaced his coin, she jotted out a quick letter.

_Professor—_

_ It has been two months. I am worried. I am restless. Do not make the mistake of keeping me in the dark. _

_ You have until Tuesday night my time (Wednesday morning your time) to contact me. _

_I am making it easy. Use the galleon. Use the mirror. Send me a note. Hell, even call my cellphone—I will leave the number on the note._

_ However you do it, just let me know you're alive._

_ Hattie._

—x—

**Group: THREE LITTLE SWANS**

**Bozo: ITS SUNNY**

** ITS ACTUALLY SUNNY**

** OPEN UR WINDOW**

** PRAISE JESUS**

**Mrs. Cullen: beau it's 5am**

** what do u mean its sunny**

**Hattie-Dearest: wait no bella he's right**

** it's actually warm too **

**Bozo: who sold their soul to the devil **

**Mrs. Cullen: beau it's 5am**

** stop txting me**

**Hattie-Dearest: ugh my window is so hard to open**

** bella when you get up will you come help me**

**Mrs. Cullen: FINE im AWAKE now i guess**

**Bozo: its monday anyways **

**Mrs. Cullen: beau why r u abwake anyways**

** ur always the last one up**

**Hattie-Dearest: this is a very good question**

_**Bozo is typing…**_

**Mrs. Cullen: u cant just type for a few seconds and then stop typing**

** Its rude**

** It makes people curious**

**Hattie-Dearest: now we're gonna assume its worse than it is**

**Mrs. Cullen: ^^^**

**Bozo: boy things**

**Mrs. Cullen: youre literally gonna blame this on you finally going thru puberty**

** ?**

**Hattie-Dearest: you haven't gone through puberty yet?**

**Bozo: damn it that was worse than just telling u the truth**

** OF COURSE I WENT THRU PUBERTY ALREADY HATTIE**

** IM SIX FREAKING FEET TALL**

** BELLA WHY DO U HAVE TO DO THIS TO ME**

**Mrs. Cullen: (laughing emojis)**

**Hattie-Dearest: im very confused**

**Bozo: im just excited to see angela okay**

**Mrs. Cullen: see now was that so hard?**

**Hattie-Dearest: yeah i dont really see why you tried to hide it**

**Bozo: w/e just hurry up i wanna get out of this house**

—x—

Bella raked a brush through her hair, having thrown on her clothes in a hurry. Beau and Hattie had been right: sunlight filtered through her window, bright yellow and on the verge of warm. When she'd hurried to the window, she noted there was hardly a cloud in the sky.

Eager to air out her room, which still had the vague stench of fresh paint after all these weeks, Bella wrenched open the window. It opened surprisingly smoothly and silently for a window she was pretty sure hadn't been opened in years—before this was a loft, it was a garage attic nobody ever used.

Hattie's, on the other hand, was a pain to open. The girl had managed to get it halfway up with her one hand, and was still attempting to open it (using her whole meager bodyweight) when Bella got there. Between the two of them they managed to get it, though it was certainly an ordeal.

They met Beau in the kitchen, basking in the sun as much as possible on their three-step walk outside.

Charlie was still there, and picked up on all of their eager moods pretty quickly. His eyes flashed between their faces, the giddiness permeating the room.

"Nice day out," he commented, lips pursed to hold back a smile.

The trio cheered as if they were wild animals. Charlie watched them horse around with a private smile.

Bella thought that when Charlie smiled it was easier to see why her mother had jumped too quickly into an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he'd purportedly been had faded before Bella had known him—as had the curly brown hair, the same color (if not texture) as her own. When he smiled, she could see a little of the man who had run away with Renee when she was just two years older than Bella and Beau were now.

On the way out the door, Beau considered his rain jacket.

"D'you think it'd be tempting fate too much, you know, to leave it behind?"

"Oh, definitely," Bella agreed. Her own rain jacket was waiting outside the door with her schoolbag. "If you screw up this beautiful day by leaving your rain jacket behind, I'll make sure you walk home."

"Hey!" her brother shouted, shoving her playfully out the door. But he snatched his jacket off the hook anyways.

They were some of the first people to school—mainly due to their excitement over the sun. Beau had used some elbow grease and had managed to get the windows in the truck almost completely rolled down, letting the warm wind whip their hair around.

They found themselves lounging at one of the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The warm sun had thoroughly dried the ancient wood and they all collapsed upon it.

Beau took out his homework, going over the answers to his US History assignment with a keen eye. Hattie stretched herself out like a cat, hunched over the picnic table—getting some sun, perhaps, on her pale, pale shoulders. Bella used the flat of her cousin's head as a prop for her novel, idly flipping through the pages.

Before long Beau and Hattie were playing tic-tac-toe in the margins of his homework. Bella leaned herself back against the picnic table, taking a page out of Hattie's book and relaxing in the sun—soaking up that Vitamin D while she still could. Her eyes had been closed for a while when she heard her cousin speak in an amused, slightly exasperated tone.

"Mike alert," Hattie warned quietly.

"Urgh," Bella groaned, sitting up straight. Best not to make herself look any more appealing than he apparently already found her.

Sure enough, Mike was headed toward them. He, along with the majority of the students Bella could see, was wearing shorts.

"Hey Mike," Bella said, finding it hard to be half-hearted on a morning like this.

He came and sat by her, angling his body away from Beau and Hattie (though he gave the girl a quick wave too). His grin was stretched across his face—Bella couldn't help being a little bit gratified by the delight he took in her presence.

"I never noticed—your hair has red in it," Mike commented. He caught a strand between his fingers.

"Only in the sun," Bella responded. She became a bit uncomfortable as he tucked the hair behind her ear, entirely too aware of her siblings in the background snickering.

Mike made small talk for a little while, seeming flustered when he learned their English essay was due on Wednesday. He seemed even more flustered, and more than a bit lost, when she told him her essay was about whether or not Shakespeare's treatment of female characters was misogynistic.

("A worthy academic," Hattie had sighed dreamily, fluttering her eyes at Bella. "Fighting the good fight.")

"I guess I'll have to work on it tonight," Mike said, deflating a little bit. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to go out."

"Oh." She was taken off-guard—why couldn't she ever have a pleasant conversation with Mike without it getting awkward? Though, she had to admire his guts: Hattie and Beau sat not a foot behind them, and he had just asked her out. He had to know he'd be getting rejected.

"Well, we could go to dinner or something…and I could work on it later," Mike said hopefully.

"Mike…" Bella sighed. She hated having to turn him down in front of other people, even if said people were her siblings. "I don't think that would be the best idea."

His face fell. "Why?" he asked, his eyes guarded. Bella's thoughts flickered to Edward, wondering if that's what he was thinking as well.

"I think…and if you ever repeat what I'm going to say right now, I will cheerfully beat you to death," Bella threatened, "but I think that would hurt Jessica's feelings."

He was bewildered, obviously not thinking in that direction at all. "Jessica?"

"Really, Mike, are you blind?" Bella asked, exasperated.

The four of them walked to class together in silence after the awkward conversation. Mike seemed to be lost in thought the whole way.

Later, in Trig, Jessica was bubbling with enthusiasm. She and some of the girls were going to Port Angeles that night to go dress shopping, and she wanted Bella to come, too, even though Bella didn't need a dress. She was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some girlfriends, but Lauren would be there. And who knew what Bella would be doing tonight…but that was definitely the wrong path to let her mind wander down.

So Bella gave her a maybe, saying she'd need to talk to Charlie first.

"You could invite Hattie," Jessica offered. There was a guarded look in her eyes. "She doesn't like me that much, but Angela will be there."

The extended invitation softened Bella and she agreed to try and convince Charlie.

The day passed in a blur, Bella too lost in her own frenzy of anticipation to notice what was going on around her. She was painfully eager to see not just Edward, but all of the Cullens—compare them to the new suspicions that plagued her mind. As she crossed the threshold to the cafeteria, the first tingle of true fear went down her spine. Would they be able to know what she was thinking?

And then a different feeling jolted through her—would Edward be waiting to sit with her again?

As was her routine, she glanced first at the Cullens' table. A shiver of panic trembled in her stomach as she realized it was empty.

With dwindling optimism, her eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find him alone, waiting for her. The place was nearly filled—Spanish class had made them late—but there was no sign of Edward or any of his family. Desolation hit her with crippling strength.

Bella and Jessica were late enough that everybody was already at their table. She plopped in her usual seat next to Hattie, across from Beau, not even pretending to pay attention to the conversations happening around her. Vaguely, though, she noticed Mike pull out Jessica's seat for her—and that her face lit up in response.

Angela tried making conversation about the Shakespeare paper, but could obviously tell that Bella wasn't all there. In a last ditch attempt at conversation, she, too, invited Bella and Hattie to come with them dress shopping tonight—they both agreed, this time.

Bella was holding on to a last shred of hope as she entered biology, but when she saw his empty seat, she was hit with a new wave of disappointment.

The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. Bella was glad to leave campus, free to pout and mope before she went out tonight. But right after she got upstairs, too down to participate in their afternoon study session, Jessica texted.

**Jessica Stanley: MIKE ASKED ME OUT**

** TONIGHT!**

** FOR DINNER!**

** AN ACTUAL DATE!**

**Bella Swan: Oh, wow. That's great, Jess.**

**Jessica Stanley: so I'm gonna have to ditch on our plans**

** You're cool with this right?**

**Bella Swan: totally**

** Jess im not in to mike **

**Jessica Stanley: what a relief **

** The girls want to go tomorrow instead**

** does that work for you and hattie?**

**Bella Swan: Yeah, that should be fine**

But, to be honest, Bella was actually sort of disappointed—now she had very little to distract herself with. She spent half an hour on homework but found she just couldn't focus. She even checked her backlog of emails from Renee, each one getting snippier. Her short response was dull, full of excuses that fell flat even to her own ears.

She decided to take a raggedy quilt and a book outside into the sun and lay out to read. Her book choices were limited (she refused to let herself think about the fate of her Seattle trip) so she wound up picking her compilation of Jane Austen's works. After a little while, though, she was fed up—all the heroes were called _Edward _or _Edmund _and she was desperately trying to distract herself from _him. _She ended up rolling her sleeves up and sunbathing instead.

The next thing Bella was conscious of was the sound of Charlie's cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. She sat up in surprise, realizing the light was low behind the trees—she'd fallen asleep.

Her neck prickled and she looked around, muddled, with the feeling that she wasn't alone.

"Charlie?" she called, but she could hear his door slamming in front of the house. "Beau? Hattie?"

She jumped up, feeling foolishly edgy. Her soggy quilt and book in hand, she ran inside. Beau and Hattie were still at the table. There was dinner on the stove and the duo was playing some kind of card game, giggling wildly because Hattie was having difficulties due to the cast.

"Sleeping beauty awakens," Beau intoned, not even looking at her. "Enjoy your cat nap, princess?"

"Shut up," Bella grumbled, trying to shake the paranoid feeling out of her heart. Maybe she'd had a bad dream.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the grass!" There you have it, folks: Beaufort Swan, comedy genius.

Hattie was nicer about it, still grinning impishly. "Are you feeling alright? You were pretty off at school, too."

"Yeah, just a bad mood I guess," Bella said, brushing it off. "Thanks for putting dinner on."

Charlie came round the corner and sniffing the air appreciatively. Hattie had put some fish on, by the smell hanging heavily in the kitchen—Charlie could probably live off the stuff and never get tired of it.

After dinner they played cards as a family, just for something to do. Charlie wasn't really that great at it (neither was Hattie, truth be told) but he seemed to be happy just doing something together. It felt good, despite Bella's mood, to make him happy.

Hattie ended up bringing the shopping trip up—Bella had forgotten in her post-nap haze.

"Uncle Charlie, some of the girls invited Bella and I to go dress shopping with them tomorrow. In Port Angeles. Do you mind if we go with them?"

He looked up from his hand. "Who's all goin'?"

"Jessica Stanley," Hattie ticked off on her finger, looking surprisingly neutral. "She is Mr. Newton's son's date. And Beau's date's going to be there—Angela Weber. Plus me and Bella, and McKayla Newton, and Lauren Mallory probably. Just a bunch of us."

He seemed confused, turning to look at Bella. "But you're not going to the dance, right?"

"No, dad," Bella sighed. "I'm just going to supervise. You know—help them find dresses, tell them if they look good."

"Well, okay," he seemed to realize he was out of his depth. "Beau, you're not going?"

"It's a girl's night," Beau piped in, looking horrified at the thought of spending hours in a women's dressing room. "I think I'm good."

"Well…alright," Charlie grunted. "But it's a school night."

"We're leaving right after school, so we can get back early," Bella explained.

"I don't want to be out that long anyways," Hattie agreed. "Get my dress, get some dinner, get home."

Bella gave her cousin an amused look, wondering if her eagerness to keep the trip short had to do with her awkward, previous (current?) dislike of Jessica. Bella had told her that Jess invited her originally, which had seemed to make Hattie warm up a little toward the curly-haired girl.

It would be nice if Hattie and Jessica could get along, though to be honest Bella could sort of understand why they didn't. Jess could be pretty vapid sometimes, more concerned with popularity and looking good than anything else. Hattie just didn't seem to care about that sort of thing—she outright avoided most people and she didn't really care what they thought of her quirks. She did like dressing up though, something Bella thought the duo would have in common if they played nice for a little bit.

The following morning was sunny again. Bella awakened with a renewed hope (one which she tried desperately to squash). She decided to dress a little nicer today in anticipation of their trip, and asked Hattie a little shyly to borrow some clothes.

Hattie didn't have an _enormous_ amount of clothes, but she had a lot of variety: the girl liked to play dress-up. Vintage skirts and blouses, leggings, different styles and cuts of jeans and tops, sun dresses. Recently Hattie went through an online shopping phase and bought a bunch of cheap Japanese clothes (which all made her look like a child, Bella thought with disdain, fingering a hoodie with cat ears on it).

But Bella did find something suitable, a royal blue off the shoulder blouse with fancy cutouts on the front. It was oblong and loose, flowy. Bella was just a little taller than Hattie, a little curvier, so she filled it out better—it made her feel confident and a little sexy. She paired it with her own nicer jeans.

"Wow, that top looks great on you," Hattie said happily, pulling her hair back with the headband she always wore. "You should keep it—it suits you better anyways."

They arrived at school with barely enough time to make it to class. With a sinking heart, Bella circled the parking lot looking for a space—while also searching for a certain shiny Volvo that was clearly absent. They had to rush in to class, slightly breathless. Bella was subdued, eyes looking down at her desk, when the final bell rang.

It was the same as yesterday—she couldn't keep little sprouts of hope from budding in her mind, only to have them squashed painfully as she searched the lunchroom and sat at her empty biology table.

The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for that night, made all the more attractive by the fact that Lauren had other obligations. Bella was anxious to get out of town so she could stop glancing over her shoulder, hoping for him to appear out of the blue like he always did. She vowed to herself that she'd be in a good mood tonight so she wouldn't ruin the other girls' enjoyment in the dress hunting.

Seeing Hattie's closet had made Bella think perhaps she could do a little clothes shopping of her own. (She refused to think that she might be shopping alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in the earlier arrangement. Surely he wouldn't cancel without at least telling her.)

After school Beau took the truck and Hattie and Bella's schoolbags with him home. Jessica would be driving for the night, in her old white Mercury that would not have fit everyone had Lauren come as planned.

Bella's excitement only grew as they left Forks, seeing the town growing smaller in the distance.

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed! If you did, leave me a review :) Chapter 16 is where things start building up, since Port Angeles is when Twilight's storyline really starts to pick up. Thanks for reading~~_


	16. Chapter 16

_-Follows Twilight: 8_

* * *

**16.**

"_Nothing ever happens like you imagine it will." ―__John Green_

Jessica drove like a maniac, in Hattie's opinion. (Possibly biased.) Still, they made it to Port Angeles by four, which was pretty good time.

Hattie had never had a "girl's night" before, unless you included the fancy tea parties she was forced into joining. Even by that token, these two activities were _nothing _alike. There was no forced small-talk, no passive aggressive remarks being thrown. Petunia would've thought this was entirely uncivilized.

They listened to a whiny sort of rock music that Hattie was actually really digging, while the girls chatted about boys. Jessica had apparently gone out with Mike the previous night and she jabbered on about it for a while—about how she hoped that by Saturday they would've progressed to the first-kiss stage.

Hattie reluctantly related to this. She didn't get to see Jacob very much, but every time it seemed like he was going to kiss her, somebody—usually a Swan somebody—would interrupt. She held on hope that their first kiss kept being interrupted because it wasn't the right time, because there would be a better, more perfect time. Her first kiss with Jacob, after all, would be her first kiss ever.

(You didn't get a lot of boy time when you were constantly studying or being a barbie doll. Plus, the neighbors thought she was pretty and well-behaved, but they didn't want their sons around her. "There's just something peculiar about that girl.")

Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist town. Hattie loved Forks, but she could see why Port Angeles would draw the crowd: it was much more polished and quaint. Forks had that sort of small-country-town vibe without being a country town. Jessica drove them straight to a big department store, a few streets in from boardwalk.

Hattie was pretty excited about trying on dresses, frankly. She even found herself giggling along with the other girls as they walked inside. She looped her arm through Bella's, much to the surprise of her cousin, and gave her a wicked smile.

"Let's enjoy ourselves, okay?" she murmured. "Maybe we can sneak out of here later and go explore boardwalk."

Bella's eyes lit up. "Well, I _did _see a bookstore."

"Sounds like a date," Hattie giggled.

The dance was semi-formal, which Hattie didn't really understand. She was picturing puffy, colorful tulle gowns, like you saw in the movies—for some reason she was getting the feeling this wouldn't be the case. Which was actually sort of a relief.

Jessica and Angela seemed gobsmacked that Bella had never gone to a dance before. They were asking her all sorts of questions and making her uncomfortable, so Hattie piped in.

"Yeah, I have never been to one either."

Jessica stopped short and stared at her unbelievingly. "_You've _never been to a dance?" she asked, in a tone that stated she clearly did not accept it one bit.

Hattie hadn't been expecting that response. "Well, no. I haven't."

"You love dancing," Angela disagreed. "Are you kidding me?"

"My aunt was strict," Hattie said, by way of explanation.

"So, you've like, never had a boyfriend either?" McKayla asked. She was blushing light pink. McKayla was a lot more subdued than her brother was—they were what Bella called Irish Twins, which meant they were not twins but were siblings born in the same year. McKayla tended to be quieter and let Mike be the exuberant one, but she was a sweet girl.

"No," Hattie said. "Like I said, my aunt was strict."

"But you're so cute!" squeaked Jessica. This information was clearly not computing for her. "Boys love you! You never snuck around? What'd you do for fun?"

Hattie hesitated, glancing at Bella. She didn't really regret her outburst from the other day, but it _had _been more information than Bella needed. This time she'd be more careful.

"I did not really have time, anyways," Hattie shrugged. "I had to be perfect. I went to school and I had to have perfect grades. After school I had to learn how to take care of a household. Then my aunt made me go to tea parties—yes, full on tea parties with the neighbors in fancy sun dresses. And most days I had a tutor who I spent hours with, too."

The girls were hanging on to her every word. It struck Hattie that, even though she'd been going to school with these girls for over three months now, this was probably the most she'd ever said to them. Angela was her closest friend, bar Bella and Beau, and Hattie hadn't even said this much to her.

"That's why you always wear fancy clothes to school," McKayla gushed. "You always look so put together."

"She looks like a 50s housewife, you mean," Jessica laughed, but it wasn't in a mean way.

"I could probably pass as a 50s housewife," Hattie agreed, surprised to find herself laughing too. "I do not like wearing heels though, is that a deal-breaker?"

"Probably," Jessica decided. "In the pictures you always see them wearing heels."

"Speaking of heels," Bella piped in. "How about we start trying on dresses?"

The dress selection wasn't huge. McKayla, who was average in stature, found several dresses pretty easily. Angela, and Jessica and Hattie, had a harder time—for similar reasons. Jessica and Hattie were both very small, petite. Angela was tall and thin. All the dresses the trio found were respectively too long or too short.

Eventually they found a couple of dresses that would work and began trying them on.

Hattie was surprised at how much she enjoyed herself. She liked watching the other girls find their dresses just as much as she enjoyed trying on her own and deliberating.

Jessica ended up going with a shocking knee-length electric blue number—it looked nice on her, but very eye-grabbing. (Hattie privately thought this was the point.) Angela chose a soft pink dress that draped around her frame nicely and flattered her slightly darker skin tone. McKayla's was a simple, elegant black dress, which looked beautiful on her. It really made her blond curls pop.

Hattie's dress…it was such a hard decision. She tried imagining Jacob's reaction to them—or more importantly, to her wearing them. She made up a scenario in her head where he was so blown away by her vast, fictitious beauty that he swept her off her feet and proclaimed that she was his. It left her blushing, staring at herself in the mirror.

"I think you should choose this one," Bella said, leaning against the frame of the fitting room door. Though her words were friendly, she looked irritated. "You look like a princess."

"I feel like a princess," Hattie murmured, running her hand down her tummy. The dress was cranberry-colored, the sort of off-the-shoulder top where the bustline went straight across her chest and melded into sleeves. The skirt was ruffled, a little shorter in the front than in the back. With the black flats Hattie had on, and the way her long, curly hair fell over her shoulders, she felt like a princess meeting her disciples.

"It's pretty practical too," Bella added as they walked out to show the dress to the others. Her voice was monotone. "I think if you went on a nice date, you could pull this off."

"Alright, what's with you?" Hattie demanded, before they could reach the girls. "I thought we were having fun."

"We were," Bella sighed. "Jess just told me that Tyler is telling everyone I'm going to prom with him."

Hattie frowned, eyebrows pulling together. "You don't even like him."

"I know."

"He hit you with a car."

"He hit _you _with a car. I was just in the way."

"Still, the point stands."

"Yeah. That's why I'm irritated." Bella clucked. Hattie folded her dress over her arm as they joined the others near the shoes.

"You should probably say something to him," Hattie told her quietly, before she ventured into the shoe aisle.

Bella and Angela were in the next aisle chatting quietly—Angela was pretty tall, so her feet were bigger. Hattie heard something about the Cullens and backpacking before Jessica converged on her.

"Hattie, why don't you like me?"

Hattie's head shot up. She was blinking rapidly, one of her feet bare, the other with a small black heel on it. She hadn't expected the question.

"Who told you that?" she demanded, wracking her brain.

"Nobody had to tell me." Jessica insisted, frowning. "You just act like you don't like me."

"I did not mean to come off as rude," Hattie said slowly. "I just think some of the things you say about people, especially the Cullens, are rude."

"I didn't mean to be rude, I just—"

"Like to gossip," Hattie finished wryly.

Jessica was blushing, not looking at her.

"There is nothing wrong with a little harmless gossip," Hattie continued—even though she sort of hated mindless gossip. It reminded her too much of her aunt. "But you cannot just go spreading hurtful things, especially if you don't have the whole story."

"I guess you're right," Jessica muttered.

"I am just saying that if I decided to gossip about you right now, I could say—Oh, Jessica just really wants to get her first kiss with Mike. And that would not feel very nice, having that spread around."

Jessica nodded sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize…well, I guess I did. It's just easy to get caught up when people are listening to you."

After they finished shopping, they had planned to go get dinner—but dress shopping hadn't taken as long as they thought it would. Jessica, Angela, and McKayla decided to take their things back to the car and then go down to the bay.

"I think Bella and I are going to go to that bookshop," Hattie told them. "Would you mind taking my things to the car with you?"

The girls protested a little bit, but Hattie and Bella encouraged them to go have fun. They didn't realize how preoccupied one could become in a bookstore. After a moment, they walked off, chattering happily, and Hattie and Bella headed in the opposite direction.

Hattie had never stopped being aware of the time—how close it was to the cut-off date she'd given Severus. It was now Tuesday evening, and though he had a few hours to contact her he was cutting it pretty close. This was another reason she wanted to get home early. If he sent her a missive she wouldn't be able to open it unless she was in privacy…how was she supposed to explain how she magically received a letter?

Besides the truth, of course.

Hattie was being extra self-aware tonight for that reason: making sure she wouldn't be surprised if something were to be banished into her pocket. She was thinking Severus would contact her via letter or the protean galleon.

Thus, she was surprised when her phone rang.

"Oh, is it Charlie already?" Bella asked. They stopped walking. Hattie pulled her phone out and examined the phone number, frowning.

"I don't recognize the number," she said. Usually she'd just ignore it—there weren't many people who had her phone number, and those who did were programmed into her phone. But she just had a gut feeling… "Hello?"

"Hattie."

All the stress and anger and fear that she'd been holding inside of her suddenly rushed out, her chest lightening. Her eyes fluttered closed.

"_Professor_," she gasped. She hadn't realized how tense she was until this moment. Bella gave her a searching look, but she shook her head. "Bella, you go on ahead—I will catch up, okay? I just…I just need to talk to him."

Her cousin looked like she considered protesting for scarcely a moment, and then nodded. "I'll be at the bookstore," she said.

Then Hattie was alone, cradling her phone in her hand. She didn't even know what to say to him, how to impress upon him the relief she felt. She thought she'd never hear his stupid snarky voice again.

"Are you alone?" his voice was calm. It was the same voice he used when he was brewing—patient, like any small movement could cause an explosion.

"I am on a sidewalk in the middle of a mug—a city," Hattie muttered, "But nobody is listening to us. I am going to walk. Professor, where have you been?"

"Busy," he sighed. "Hattie, you have no idea how stressful these last few months have been. For so long my sole responsibility was to ensure your safety. Once you left everything came crashing down. I'm—I apologize for leaving you in the dark."

"I know you are busy, but I thought you were _dead,_" Hattie snapped. It was a small white lie: she wondered if he could be dead, but she never truly believed it. "Even the smallest, quickest note—a message on the coin—anything. _Anything._ Professor, I got _hit by a car_, and you didn't even send a missive asking after my health."

"I'm not your keeper," he responded, his tone dark.

"_Do not _pretend you don't care about me," Hattie demanded, voice wobbly. She found a secluded alcove to dip away into, for a semblance of privacy. "Don't pretend you didn't raise me for the last eleven years."

"I've told you once—I'll tell you again—"

"Yeah," Hattie laughed bitterly. "You're not my father. I know. I'm not asking for a father. I'm asking for a little bit of compassion."

The other end was silent for a beat too long and she wondered if he'd hung up. Then, "I knew you were alright."

"You couldn't possibly have known."

"You are right, of course. I only suspected," Severus agreed. "So inform me, then."

Hattie didn't even know where to start. She pinched the phone between her shoulder and her cheek, running her good hand through her hair. Severus hated that habit, for whatever reason. It made her smirk to think of his expression, had he seen her do it.

"Well, I got hit by a car," she stated. "I had to heal…normally. I'm still in a cast. I hit my head pretty hard, I don't really remember much about that day."

"Just as I suspected," added Severus. "You were fine."

"I was _lonely,_" Hattie whispered. "I was in pain and alone and all of my friends—all of the people I cared about—were over an entire ocean. You were my sole source of contact and you let me down."

"You're a big girl. There are vastly bigger problems in our world than Hattie Potter's _loneliness,_" Severus sneered.

"You think I don't know that?" Hattie shouted. Then, incredibly aware of her location, she lowered her voice again. "You think I don't worry every day about you? About our friends? I don't sleep anymore. I have nightmares every night about you, out there somewhere in the world, being kidnapped and tortured and killed. I have nightmares about the re—about _them _finding _me. _But then I have to keep it together because, unlike you, I have _nobody to speak to_. Everyone around me is—_normal._"

Severus was quiet again. In the background she could hear a woman laughing. Before she could ask about it, he started speaking again. "Hattie, I am very sorry for everything you are going through. Just know that it's safer this way. Not forever. One day, I'm sure much sooner than either of us want, this is going to come to a head. Already the rebellions have grown—surprisingly quickly. The—the Order is doing well."

Hattie closed her eyes again. The Order. A truth, finally, a piece of the puzzle to fill in. "You work for the Order."

"I'm sorry I never told you."

"All these years?" Hattie asked. "The whole time?"

"No. Not the whole time, not truly. It's…hard to explain, especially when we are not—in full privacy. I knew of the Order a long time ago and swore loyalty to Albus Dumbledore after your mother died. He never called on me. When we started getting word of the rebellions rising up, that's when I began searching out other members. That's when you met Minerva, Hattie."

Hattie nodded, trying to fill in the timeline. "And all of our friends—?"

"Order." Severus confirmed. "Our entire network."

"Even Cedric's family?"

"Yes."

"So when we were celebrating Cecelia, and you got the message from your informant…?"

"I'm surprised you remember that," Severus admitted. "Yes, all Order missions. We lost many good people that night."

"The whole time, you were running a rebellion, and you never told me."

Severus sighed. "Hattie, it is so complicated. There are so many things you don't know—things I want to tell you, but it's too dangerous right now. I don't have much more time to talk. We're…there's a large gathering currently, we're discussing a very important mission. I just got back from France last night, and I'll only be here through the meeting—then I will be going back to recruiting."

"When the mission's over, what do you hope to have accomplished?" Hattie asked. If she had such little time with her Professor she wanted at least one answer.

"What we always hope to accomplish, when we plan these missions," Severus responded. Hattie felt disappointed—she thought he was going to leave it there. But he didn't. "We hope to have eradicated another portion of the Dark Lord's army, we hope to take back pieces of our history that he is trying to erase. Hattie, so much has happened already since you've been gone. We took back Diagon Alley."

Hattie's breath caught in her throat. Diagon Alley was her childhood dream. Severus had shown her pictures of it in its prime and it was the epitome of everything magical—she'd always wanted to go there. She'd grown up in a world without magical cities. Any great magical area of gathering was run by the regime, either highly policed and patrolled or abandoned entirely.

"Oh, Professor," Hattie whispered. "Congratulations."

"The war isn't won yet," Severus reprimanded. "The coming weeks will be tough on our forces. We're—blast it—we're aiming for the Ministry next."

Hattie gasped. "Professor, if you control the Ministry—"

"We control everything," Severus finished. She could hear the tired smile in his voice. "Port-Keys, the Floo Network. People would be able to file their NEWTs again, order could be regained. Peoples' lives would stop being on hold. And after the Ministry, we hope to have gained support by showing what we can do. I don't want to get ahead of myself, but next would be Hogwarts. That's the big one."

"Because he guards it heavily," Hattie remembered. "He leaves it uninhabited, but it's his biggest power play."

"No," Severus denied. "It's not uninhabited. He uses it as his base of operations. He has students there…the unlucky ones whose parents bought into the regime, they're all there. And prisoners of war. They've been there for years."

"You told me—"

"I did," Severus agreed. "I could not let an innocent child fear a school. Especially not a school which was once my safe haven—a school which was home to her parents—no. It was better to lie."

"Severus…"

"I'm very sorry, Hattie, but it's time for me to go."

"I don't want you to go," Hattie said, suddenly surprising herself by crying. It hurt to hear his voice and know she would have to say goodbye. "Professor—please, please don't go."

"I have to."

"I miss you," she whispered. She sounded like a small child even to her own ears.

"Oh, Hattie," he murmured. "You idiotic child. I miss you too."

"You'll call me again?"

"I will try."

It wasn't good enough, but it had to be good enough for now. Hattie's body wracked with suppressed sobs. "Professor—come back alive. You are not allowed to die."

"I can't make that promise, Hattie."

"Promise me."

"_Hattie._"

Someone in the background was calling for him now—it was a sharp, angry voice. The man used Professor's surname and somehow it sounded derisive. Professor sighed in frustration.

"Promise me, and then go," Hattie told him, trying to be brave.

"I promise that I will attempt to make it back," Severus said. "You are strong, Hattie. Remember that."

"Goodbye, Professor."

Hattie stared at her phone's screen for a very long time afterward. She added the phone number to her contacts as _Professor Severus _and stared at the number until it was ingrained within her mind. It was only the call history log that convinced her the phone call had even happened—that and the sheer amount of emotion flowing through her body.

She sunk down on the floor and sobbed, not even trying to control herself. She was so relieved—she was so angry—she was so worried. The emotions cycled around in her brain, each battling for dominance. Her chest ached. Until she had heard his voice she didn't realize how homesick she was for the people she cared about.

It was only when she was composing herself, dragging herself out of the dirt, that she realized she hadn't asked any questions about her friends. And he, of course, hadn't thought to give her any answers. But she told herself that if anything bad had happened to one of their acquaintances, he would've mentioned it to her.

Hattie wiped her eyes one last time. She was strong. She straightened her back, set her shoulders, and found her magical core deep within her. She was strong. If there was anything Professor had ever taught her to be, it was that.

Strong, and brave, and resilient.

She set off, toward the bookstore, to find Bella.

—x—

Bella's mind was racing a million miles a minute. She had been herded into an alley by a group of four drunk men.

People were always quick to tell you what you should do in scary situations. How you should react. If your wrists were zip-tied together you could break the zip-tie with enough momentum. If you slammed the palm of your hand into someone's nose you could break it. Take your purse off—use it as a weapon, or just give it to them if that's what they want.

Obviously, most of those people had never been in a situation like this.

A pessimistic voice in her head reminded her that she wouldn't have a chance against one of them, let alone four. But she refused to go out without taking at least one with her.

She had a good, loud scream—but in her worried state she wasn't sure how much volume she could manage. It was like that nightmare of being chased, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't run any faster or make any noise.

The fear was paralyzing.

_At least Hattie won't be involved, _Bella thought, with some sense of relief. She felt relieved and guilty at the same time.

Relief because Hattie would not have to be involved in whatever was about to go down.

Guilt because Bella desperately wished she was not alone.

"Stay away from me," Bella warned, in a voice that was supposed to sound strong and fearless. Instead it wavered unsurely—she was like a frightened rabbit.

"Don't be like that, sugar," the thickset man called, and the others began laughing raucously behind her.

Bella tried not to think about what was going to happen. She didn't want the anticipation to scare her further. How long would it be before Hattie came looking? Would she find Bella? Would Charlie get involved?

With dread, Bella began to draw in breath for a scream. She thought to herself, _anything but death. _

And then headlights suddenly flew around the corner.

The car almost hit one of the men, forcing him to jump back toward the sidewalk. Bella's heart leapt in her chest: this was her chance. She dove into the road—the car was going to stop, or have to hit her. But the silver car unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger door open just a few feet from her.

"Get in," a furious voice commanded.

It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of security washed over her—even before she left the street—as soon as she heard his voice. She melted. The tense set of her shoulders relaxed, and she could have cried.

Instead, she jumped into the seat, slamming the door behind herself.

The tires squealed as he spun around to face north, accelerating too quickly, swerving around the stunned men on the street. Bella caught a glimpse of them diving for the sidewalk as Edward straightened the car out, speeding toward the harbor.

"Put your seatbelt on," he commanded. Bella realized she was clutching the seat with both hands. She quickly obeyed; the snap as the belt connected was loud in the darkness. "Where's Hattie?" he demanded as he blew through several stop signs without a pause.

It took Bella a moment to answer, still riding the wave of utter relief she felt. She was completely unconcerned with where he was taking her. "She's at the bookstore," Bella said slowly.

She stared at his face, studying his features in the limited light of the dashboard, waiting for her breath to return to normal. It occurred to her after a moment that his expression was murderously angry.

"Are you okay?" she asked, surprised at the hoarseness of her voice.

"No," he said, curtly. His tone was livid.

She sat in silence, watching his face while his blazing eyes stared straight ahead, until the car came to a sudden stop. She glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything besides the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. They weren't in town anymore.

"Bella?" he asked, his voice tight, controlled.

"Yes?" her voice was still rough. She cleared her throat quietly.

"Are you alright?" He still didn't look at her, but the fury was plain on his face.

"Yes," she croaked softly.

"Distract me, please," he ordered.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He exhaled sharply.

"Just prattle on about something unimportant until I calm down," he clarified, closing his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"Um." She wracked her brain for something trivial. "I'm going to run over Tyler Crowley before school tomorrow?"

He was still squeezing his eyes closed, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Why?"

"He's telling everyone he's taking me to prom—either he's insane or he's still trying to make up for nearly killing Hattie and I last… well, you remember it, and he thinks prom is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his life, we'll be even, and he can't keep trying to make amends. Hattie thinks I should just talk to him, but I don't need enemies and maybe Lauren would back off if he left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra, though. If he doesn't have a ride he can't take anyone to prom…" Bella babbled.

"I heard about that." Edward sounded a bit more composed.

"You did?" Bella asked in disbelief, her previous irritation flaring up. "If he's paralyzed from the neck down, he can't take anyone to prom, either," she muttered, refining her plan.

The sudden sound of Bella's phone going off was loud in the dark car, startling them both—though Edward's eyes barely flickered, Bella had jolted visibly.

It was Hattie.

**Hattie Potter: bella where are you?**

** i went to the bookstore and you werent there**

** so i met the girls at dinner**

**Bella Swan: long story**

** EC picked me up**

**Hattie Potter: ?**

** what? why? when? **

**Bella Swan: like i said, long story**

** ill tell you later**

** how was your professor?**

**Hattie Potter: long story**

** i guess we both have stories to tell.**

Edward sighed. When Bella glanced up, his eyes were finally opened, scrutinizing her.

"Sorry," Bella said. "Are you better now?"

"Not really."

She waited, but he didn't speak again. He leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. His face was rigid.

"What's wrong?" she was surprised when her voice came out as a whisper.

"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella." He was whispering, too, and as he stared out the window his eyes narrowed into slits. "But it wouldn't be helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…" he didn't finish his sentence, looking away. Bella thought he was struggling to control his anger again. "At least," he continued, "that's what I'm trying to convince myself."

"Oh." The word was inadequate, but Bella couldn't think of a better response.

They sat in silence again. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard: it was past six-thirty. Simultaneously it seemed like so much more time had passed, and as if not nearly enough had.

Still, with regret, she told him, "The girls will be worried…I was supposed to meet them."

"You just told Hattie you were with me," Edward said, but started the engine anyways.

Soon enough, they were parallel-parked in a spot by the curb that Bella would've thought was way too small for the Volvo. Outside the window Bella spotted the lights for La Bella Italia, and the girls were just leaving.

"How did you know where…?" Bella began, but stopped herself, shaking her head. She heard the door open and turned to see him getting out.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm taking you to dinner." He smiled lightly, but his eyes were hard. He stepped out of the car and slammed the door. She fumbled with her seatbelt, then hurried to get out of the car as well. He was waiting for her on the sidewalk.

Edward spoke before she could. "Go stop them before I have to track them down, too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again."

Bella shivered at the threat in his voice.

"Hattie, Jessica!" Bella yelled after them, waving when they turned. The quartet hurried back to her.

Bella was surprised to see that Hattie's eyes were puffy. The girl was quiet, not really looking at anyone—she'd very obviously been crying.

"Hattie told us that Edward picked you up," Jessica explained lightly, but it didn't stop them from hesitating a few feet from the duo. Hattie was the exception, encroaching on Bella's space. For some reason, Bella got the feeling the younger girl needed a hug.

"Yeah, I, uh, got lost. Edward found me," Bella admitted, glossing over the truth. She gestured toward Edward a little self-consciously, careful not to bump Hattie.

"Would it be alright if I joined you?" he asked, in his silken, irresistible voice. Bella could tell from Jessica, Angela, and McKayla's staggered expressions that he had never unleashed his talents upon them before.

"Er…sure," Jessica breathed.

"We already ate," Hattie said. Bella could hear the eyeroll in her voice and suppressed a grin. At least her sister wasn't rendered completely helpless by Edward's voice.

"Oh…yeah…sorry," Angela murmured, shamefaced.

"That's fine—I'm not hungry." Bella shrugged. It was the truth, she was still pretty shaken from her encounter.

"I think you should eat something." Edward's voice was low and full of authority. He looked down at Hattie and spoke slightly louder. "Do you mind if I drive Bella home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while she eats."

Hattie nodded shortly, looking at Bella as if to try and read her expression. Bella winked. She wanted nothing more than to be alone with her perpetual savior. There were so many questions that Bella couldn't bombard him with until they were alone.

"Alright—that sounds good. Bella, I'll see you when you get in." The more Hattie talked, the more Bella could hear the rough, tired quality in her voice. Whatever had happened with her professor had taken a toll on her.

"Won't your dad ask questions?" McKayla protested. "Mine would…"

"We stay in the loft—there's no reason for him to come looking for us," Hattie explained. "He never has before."

"I'll make excuses to him when I get home," Bella assured. Angela was rounding up the girls and hurrying them off, but Hattie hung back. Bella again got the feeling that she needed a hug. "Are you okay, Hattie?"

"Long night," Hattie murmured. The girl was obviously trying to keep her voice down, and Bella noticed Edward moved a few steps away respectfully.

"You and me both," Bella agreed. "Will you be alright? I shouldn't be too late, but Beau can help you with your clothes if you need."

"I'll be fine." Hattie was looking at the ground. Her shoulders quivered a little. "Bella…"

But Bella was already hugging her. Hattie clutched Bella with her good arm, the tightest hug Bella could remember getting in recent times. A few tears fell onto Bella's shoulder and she couldn't help but wonder what exactly the phone call was about.

"You're going to tell me everything," Bella demanded. "Right?"

"Right," Hattie muttered, pulling away. She scrubbed her face silently for a moment. "You, too?"

"Right," Bella agreed sourly.

When Hattie moved to join the other girls, glancing back over her shoulder for a second, Bella swallowed thickly.

She got the feeling they were both lying to each other.

* * *

_That's that! I almost forgot to post this week, since it's been a heck of a long one for me :) I've got hardly any writing done this week, either. I'm stuck on chapter 41, trying to figure out how to get moving again! _

_If anyone has any ideas they'd like to see incorporated, let me know :)_


	17. Chapter 17

_* follows the end of Twilight: 8 through the beginning of Twilight: 9_  
_* Very by the book, though I cut out some unnecessary stuff, changed just a couple of things, and added a teensy bit._  
_* Purposely changed "Shall we call you 'Jane'?" into "Shall we call you 'Sarah'?"_

* * *

**17.**

"_I ask for trust. It is a lot, I know; it isn't easy to give. But it is all I ask." ―Amelia Atwater-Rhodes_

Bella and Edward were seated in _La Bella Italia. _Edward had tipped the hostess so she'd give him a more private table—when the server came to take their drink orders, she seemed to look expectant. Clearly the hostess was gossiping behind the scenes.

"How are you feeling?" Edward asked. His eyes were fixed to her face, scrutinizing her reactions.

"I'm fine," Bella replied, surprised by his intensity. Her mind was reeling over everything that had happened. Her encounter—Edward saving her—Hattie's tears. She was also trying to add her theories on the Cullens into the mix. It was mind-boggling.

"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold…?"

"Should I?"

Edward chuckled at her puzzled tone. "Well, I'm actually waiting for you to go into shock." His face was twisted up into that perfect crooked smile.

"I don't think that will happen," Bella said, after she could breathe again. "I've always been good at repressing unpleasant things."

"Just the same, I'll feel better when you have some sugar and food in you."

Just on cue, the waitress appeared with their drinks and a basket of breadsticks. She stood with her back to Bella while she placed them on the table. The waitress seemed entirely unwilling to look at Bella, even when they were ordering.

Once they'd ordered (curiously, Edward hadn't gotten anything), the waitress left.

"Drink," Edward commanded.

So she sipped at her drink obediently, and then drank more deeply, surprised by how thirsty she was. She only realized she'd finished the whole thing when he pushed his glass toward her.

"Thanks," she murmured, still thirsty. The cold from the icy soda was radiating through her chest, and she shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"It's just the Coke," Bella explained, shivering again.

"Don't you have a jacket?" Edward asked disapprovingly.

"Yes." She looked at the empty bench next to her. "Oh—I left it in Jessica's car," Bella realized.

Edward was shrugging off his jacket. Bella suddenly realized she had never once noticed what he was wearing—not just tonight, but ever. She just couldn't seem to look away from his face.

She forced herself to look now, focusing. He was removing a light beige leather jacket now; underneath he wore an ivory turtleneck sweater. It fit him snugly, emphasizing how muscular his chest was.

He handed her his jacket, interrupting her ogling.

"Thanks," Bella repeated, sliding her arms into the jacket. It was cold—the way hers felt when she first picked it up in the morning, hanging in the drafty hallway. She shivered again. It smelled amazing. She inhaled, trying to identify the delicious scent—it didn't smell like cologne.

The sleeves were much too long; she shoved them back so she could free her hands.

"That color blue looks lovely with your skin," Edward said, watching her. Bella was surprised; she looked down, flushing. Hattie had said much the same thing, but it was different now.

"Thank you…Hattie gave it to me."

"Your cousin has beautiful taste," Edward complimented, shoving the bread basket toward her.

"Really, I'm not going into shock," Bella protested.

"You should be—a normal person would be. You don't even look shaken." He seemed unsettled. He stared into her eyes, and Bella saw how light his were: lighter than she'd ever seen them, golden butterscotch.

"I feel very safe with you," Bella confessed, mesmerized into telling the truth again. She omitted that she'd made her peace with it, thankful that Hattie hadn't been involved.

However, this displeased Edward; his alabaster brow furrowed. He shook his head, frowning.

"This is more complicated than I'd planned," he murmured to himself.

Bella picked up a breadstick, nibbling the end. She measured his expression, wondering—when would it be okay to start questioning him?

"Usually you're in a better mood when your eyes are so light," she commented, trying to distract him from whatever thought had left him frowning and somber.

He stared at her, stunned. "What?"

"You're always crabbier when your eyes are black—I expect it then," Bella went on. "I have a theory about that."

He narrowed his eyes. "More theories?"

"Mm-hmm." Bella chewed on a small bite of the bread, trying to look indifferent.

"I hope you were more creative this time…or are you still stealing from comic books?" his faint smile was mocking; his eyes were still light.

"Well, no, I didn't get it from a comic book, but I didn't come up with it on my own, either."

"And?" Edward prompted.

But then the waitress strode around the partition with Bella's food. She realized they'd been unconsciously leaning toward each other across the table, because they both straightened as the waitress approached. She set the dish down and tried to chat Edward up again, but he only had her refill the sodas before waving her away politely.

"You were saying?" he asked Bella, once the waitress was gone.

"I'll tell you about it in the car. If…" Bella paused.

"There are conditions?" he raised one eyebrow, ominous.

"I do have a few questions, of course."

"Of course."

The waitress brought out two more Cokes, and sat them down without a word this time, leaving quickly. Bella sipped hers quietly.

"Well, go ahead," Edward pushed, his voice still hard.

Bella started with the most undemanding, or so she thought. "Why are you in Port Angeles?"

Edward looked down, folding his large hands together slowly on the table. His eyes flickered up at Bella from under his lashes, the hint of a smirk on his face. "Next."

"But that's the easiest one!" Bella objected.

"Next," he repeated.

Bella looked down, frustrated. She unrolled her silverware, picked up the fork, and speared a ravioli carefully. It _was _good, but she was using it more as a distraction than anything.

"Okay, then." Bella glared at him, and continued slowly. "Let's say, hypothetically of course, that…someone…could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know—with some exceptions."

"Just three exceptions," Edward corrected, "hypothetically."

"Alright, with three exceptions, then." Bella was thrilled he was playing along, but she tried to seem casual. "How does that work? What are the limitations? How could…that someone…find someone else at exactly the right time? How would he know she was in trouble?" She wondered if her convoluted questions even made sense.

"Hypothetically?" Edward asked.

"Sure."

"Well…if that someone…"

"Let's call him 'Joe'," Bella suggested.

Edward smiled wryly. "Joe, then. If Joe had been paying attention, the timing wouldn't have needed to be quite so exact." He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Only you could get into trouble in a town this small. You would have devastated their crime rate statistics for a decade, you know."

"We were speaking of a hypothetical case," Bella reminded him frostily.

He laughed at her, eyes warm. "Yes, we were," he agreed. "Shall we call you 'Sarah'?"

"How did you know?" Bella asked, unable to curb her curiosity. She realized she was leaning toward him again.

Edward seemed torn, then—wavering. His eyes locked with hers and she guessed he was making the decision right then whether or not to simply tell her the truth.

"You can trust me, you know," she murmured. She reached forward, without thinking, to touch his folded hands, but he slid them away minutely and she pulled her hand back.

"I don't know if I have a choice anymore." Edward's voice was almost a whisper. "I was wrong—you're much more observant than I gave you credit for."

"I thought you were always right."

"I used to be." He shook his head again. "I was wrong about you on one other thing, as well. You're not a magnet for accidents—that's not a broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you."

"And you put yourself into that category?" Bella guessed.

His face turned cold, expressionless. "Unequivocally."

Bella stretched her hand across the table again—ignoring him when he pulled back slightly once more—to touch the back of his hand shyly with her fingertips. His skin was cold and hard, like a stone.

"Thank you." Her voice was fervent with gratitude. "That's twice now."

His face softened. "Let's not try for three, agreed?"

She scowled, but nodded. He moved his hand out from under hers, placing both of his beneath the table. But he leaned toward her.

"I followed you to Port Angeles," he admitted, speaking in a rush. "I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it's much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that's probably just because it's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes." He paused. Bella wondered if it should bother her that he was following her; instead, she felt a strange surge of pleasure. He stared, maybe wondering why her lips were curving into an involuntary smile.

"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you've been interfering with fate?" Bella speculated, distracting herself.

"That wasn't the first time," he said, and his voice was hard to hear. Bella stared at him in amazement, but he was looking down. "Your number was up the first time I met you."

She felt a spasm of fear at his words, and the abrupt memory of his violent glare that first day…but the overwhelming sense of safety she felt in his presence stifled it. By the time he looked up to read her eyes, there was no trace of fear in them.

"You remember?" he asked, his angel's face grave.

"Yes." Bella was calm.

"And yet, here you sit." There was a trace of disbelief in his voice; he raised one eyebrow.

"Yes, here I sit…because of you." She paused. "Because, somehow, you knew how to find me today…?"

He pressed his lips together, staring at her through narrowed eyes, deciding once again. His eyes flashed down to her full plate, then back to her.

"You eat, I'll talk," he bargained.

She popped a ravioli in her mouth obediently, trying not to smile cheekily at him.

"It's harder than it should be—keeping track of you. Usually I can find someone very easily, once I've read their mind before." He looked at her anxiously, and she realized that she'd frozen. She made herself swallow, and then took another bite.

"I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully—like I said, only you could find trouble in Port Angeles—and at first I didn't notice when you and Hattie took off. Then, when I realized you weren't with her anymore, I went searching for Hattie. Hattie is…difficult. I _can _hear her, but it…gives me a headache. There's a lot of—_effort _involved, and very little information gained. So instead I went looking for you in the bookstore I saw in Jessica's head.

"I could tell you hadn't gone in, and that you'd gone south…and I knew you would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting for you, randomly searching through the thoughts of people on the street—to see if anyone had noticed you so I could know where you were. I had no reason to be worried…but I was strangely anxious…" he was lost in thought, staring past Bella, seeing things she couldn't imagine.

"I started to drive in circles, still…listening. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then—" he stopped, clenching his teeth together in sudden fury. He made an effort to calm himself.

"Then what?" she whispered. He continued to stare over her head.

"I heard what they were thinking," he growled, his upper lip curling back slightly over his teeth. "I saw your face in his mind." He suddenly leaned forward, one elbow appearing on the table, his hand covering his eyes. The movement was so swift it startled her.

"It was very…hard—you can't imagine how hard—for me to simply take you away, and leave them…alive." His voice was muffled by his arm. "I could have let you go with Hattie, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them," he admitted in a whisper.

Bella sat quietly, dazed, her thoughts incoherent. She was leaning back against the booth, hands in her lap. He still had his face in his hands, and he was as still as if he'd been carved from the stone his skin resembled.

After that, they decided to leave. Bella was glad for the hour-long drive home: she wasn't ready to leave him yet.

He was very polite to the waitress, even if he never looked away from Bella whilst talking to her. He followed Bella closely to the door, very careful not to touch her.

She remembered what Jessica had said earlier, about her relationship with Mike—how they were almost to the first-kiss stage. Bella sighed. Edward seemed to hear her, looking down curiously, and she was grateful he seemed to not be able to hear her thoughts.

He opened the passenger door for her, holding it as she got in and closing it behind her. Bella watched as he walked around the front of the car, amazed still by how graceful he was. She probably should've been used to it by now, but she wasn't—she had a feeling Edward wasn't the kind of person you got used to.

Once inside the car, Edward started the engine and turned the heat on high. It had gotten very cold, and Bella guessed the good weather was coming to an end. She was warm in his jacket, though, breathing in the scent of it when she thought he wasn't looking.

Edward pulled out through the traffic, apparently without a glance, flipping around to head toward the freeway.

"Now," he said significantly. "It's your turn."

"Can I ask just one more?" Bella pleaded as Edward accelerated much too quickly down the quiet street. He didn't seem to be paying any attention to the road.

He sighed. "One," he agreed. His lips pressed together in a cautious line.

"Well…you said you knew I hadn't gone into the bookstore, and that I had gone south. I was just wondering how you knew that."

He looked away, deliberating.

"I thought we were past all the evasiveness," Bella grumbled.

"Fine, then. I followed your scent." He looked at the road, giving her time to compose her face. She couldn't think of one acceptable response to that, but filed it carefully away for future study. She tried to refocus. She wasn't ready to let him be finished, now that he was finally explaining things.

"And then you didn't answer one of my first questions…" she stalled.

He looked at her with disapproval. "Which one?"

"How does it work—the mind-reading thing? Can you read anybody's mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family…?" she felt silly, asking for clarification on make-believe.

"That's more than one," he pointed out. She simply intertwined her fingers and gazed at him, waiting. He sighed.

"Not all of my family—just Edythe and I," he said finally. "And we can't hear anyone, anywhere. We have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone's…'voice' is, the further away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles." He paused thoughtfully. "It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum—a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear.

"Most of the time I tune it all out—it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem normal"—he frowned as he said the word—"when I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words. Edythe likes to think of it as a game, though. How far she can go before people get suspicious."

"Why do you think my siblings and I are different?" Bella asked curiously.

He looked at her, his eyes enigmatic. "I don't know," he murmured. "Hattie, it's like I can't…focus on her. It hurts my head, trying to make out her thoughts. I don't do it often. Edythe thinks it's fun though. The only guess I have for you and Beau is that maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I'm only getting the PM." He grinned at her, suddenly amused.

"My mind doesn't work right? I'm a freak?" The words bothered her more than they should—probably because his speculation hit home. She'd always suspected as much, and it embarrassed her to have it confirmed.

"I hear voices in my mind and you're worried that _you're _the freak," he laughed. "Don't worry, it's just a theory…" his face tightened. "Which brings us back to you."

Bella sighed, unsure how to begin.

"Aren't we past all the evasions now?" Edward reminded her softly.

Bella looked away from his face for the first time, trying to find words. She happened to notice the speedometer and her heart lurched.

"Holy crow!" she shouted. "Slow down!"

"What's wrong?" he was startled, but the car didn't decelerate.

"You're going a hundred miles an hour!" She was still shouting. She shot a panicky glance out the window, but it was too dark to see much. The road was only visible in the long patch of bluish brightness from the headlights. The forest along both sides of the road was like a black wall—as hard as a wall of steel if they veered off the road at this speed.

"Relax, Bella," he rolled his eyes, still not slowing.

"Are you trying to kill us?" Bella demanded.

"We're not going to crash."

She try to modulate her voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

"I always drive like this." He turned to smile crookedly at her.

"Keep your eyes on the road!"

"I've never been in an accident, Bella—I've never even gotten a ticket." He grinned and tapped his forehead. "Built-in radar detector."

"Very funny," Bella fumed. "Charlie's a cop, remember? I was raised to abide by traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk, you can probably just walk away."

"Probably," he agreed, with a short, hard laugh. "But you can't." He sighed, and Bella watched in relief as the needle gradually drifted toward eighty. "Happy?"

"Almost."

"I hate driving slow," he muttered.

"This is slow?"

"Enough commentary on my driving," he snapped. "I'm still waiting on your latest theory."

Bella bit her lip. He looked down at her, his honey eyes unexpectedly gentle. "I won't laugh," he promised.

"I'm more afraid that you'll be angry with me."

"Is it that bad?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

He waited. She was looking down at her hands now, so she couldn't see his expression.

"Go ahead." His voice was calm.

"I don't know how to start," Bella admitted.

"How about you start at the beginning…you said you didn't come up with this on your own."

"No."

"What got you started—a book? A movie?" he probed.

"No—it was Saturday, at the beach." She risked a glance up at his face. He looked puzzled. "I ran into Hattie's…friend—Jacob Black." Bella continued. "His dad and Charlie have been friends since we were babies."

He still looked confused, so Bella continued idly.

"His dad is one of the Quileute elders." She watched him carefully. His confused expression froze in place. "We had a bonfire and he was telling me some old legends—trying to scare me, I think. He told me one…" Bella hesitated.

"Go on," Edward said.

"About vampires." She realized she was whispering. She couldn't look at his face now, but she saw his knuckles tighten convulsively on the wheel.

"And you immediately thought of me?" His voice was still calm.

"No. He…mentioned your family."

He was staring at the road, silent. Bella was worried suddenly about protecting Jacob—and Hattie's feelings, as well.

"He just thought it was a silly superstition," she said quickly. "He didn't expect me to think anything of it. It was my fault—I forced him to tell me."

"Why?"

"Lauren said something about you—she was trying to provoke me. And an older boy from the tribe said your family didn't come to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something different. So when Jacob and I were alone, I tried to trick it out of him," Bella admitted, hanging her head.

Edward startled her by laughing. She glared up at him. He was laughing, but his eyes were fierce, staring ahead. "Tricked him how?" he asked.

"I tried to flirt—it didn't really go how I expected." Shame colored her voice as she remembered his amusement, and the thought of trying to flirt with Hattie's boyfriend at all.

"I'd like to have seen that," Edward chuckled darkly. "And you accused me of dazzling people—poor Jacob Black."

"I didn't dazzle him," Bella protested. "He saw right through my flirting. He's not…interested in me."

"You don't know that," Edward rolled his eyes.

"I do," Bella's voice was self-assured. "Jacob Black is in love with my sister."

He stared at her with his deep eyes, looking torn again, but nodded. "What did you do then?" he asked, after a minute.

"I did some research on the internet."

"And did that convince you?" his voice sounded barely interested, but his hands were clamped hard onto the steering wheel.

"No. Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then…" she stopped.

"What?"

"I decided it didn't matter," she whispered.

"It didn't matter?" His tone made her look up—she had finally broken through his carefully composed mask. His face was incredulous, with just a hint of the anger she'd feared.

"No," she said softly. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."

A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not human?!"

"No."

He was silent, staring straight ahead again. His face was bleak and cold.

"You're angry," Bella sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," he said, but his tone was as hard as his face. "I'd rather know what you're thinking—even if what you're thinking is insane."

"So I'm wrong again?" Bella challenged.

"That's not what I was referring to. 'It doesn't matter!'" he quoted, gritting his teeth together.

"I'm right?" Bella gaped. It had never struck her that her theories might be correct.

"Does it matter?"

"Not really," Bella said, after taking a deep breath. "But I _am _curious." Her voice, at least, was composed.

He was suddenly resigned. "What are you curious about?"

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," he answered promptly.

"And how long have you been seventeen?"

His lips twitched as he stared at the road. "A while," he admitted at last.

"Okay." She smiled, pleased that he was still being honest with her. He stared down at her watchfully—much as he had when he'd worried she'd go into shock. Bella smiled wider in encouragement, and he frowned.

"Don't laugh—but how can you come out during the daytime?"

He laughed anyway. "Myth."

"Burned by the sun?"

"Myth."

"Sleeping in coffins?"

"Myth." He hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered his voice. "I can't sleep."

It took her a minute to absorb that. "At all?"

"Never," he said, his voice nearly inaudible. He turned to her with a wistful expression. The golden eyes held hers, making her lose her train of thought. She stared at him until he looked away. "You haven't asked me the most important question yet."

His voice was hard—when he looked at her again, his eyes were cold.

Bella blinked, still dazed. "Which one is that?"

"You aren't concerned about my diet?" he asked sarcastically.

"Oh," she murmured. "That."

"Yes, that." His voice was bleak. "Don't you want to know if I drink blood?"

Bella flinched. "Well, Jacob said something about that."

"What did Jacob say?"

"He said you didn't…hunt people. He said your family wasn't supposed to be dangerous because you only hunted animals."

"He said we weren't dangerous?" His voice was deeply skeptical.

"Not exactly. He said you weren't _supposed _to be dangerous. But the Quileutes still didn't want you on their land, just in case."

He looked forward, but Bella couldn't tell if he was watching the road or not.

"So was he right? About not hunting people?" she tried to keep her voice as even as possible.

"The Quileutes have a long memory," he whispered. She took it as confirmation. "Don't let that make you complacent, though. They're right to keep their distance. We _are _still dangerous."

"I don't understand."

"We try," he explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you."

"This is a mistake?" Bella asked. She could hear the sadness in her own voice, but didn't know if he could as well.

"A very dangerous one," he murmured.

They were both silent then, watching the headlights twist with the curves of the road. They moved too fast; they didn't look real, it looked like a video game. She was aware of the time slipping away so quickly, like the black road beneath them, and she was hideously afraid she'd never be alone with him like this again—openly, the walls between them gone for once. His words hinted at an end, and she recoiled from that idea. She couldn't waste one minute she had with him.

"Tell me more," she asked, desperately, not caring what he said. She just wanted to hear his voice again.

He looked at her quickly, startled by the change in her tone. "What more do you want to know?"

"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," she suggested, her voice still tinged with desperation. She realized her eyes were wet, and fought against the grief that was trying to overpower her.

"I don't want to be a monster." His voice was very low.

"But animals aren't enough?"

He paused. "I can't be sure, of course, but I'd compare it to living on Soylent or protein shakes—we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It doesn't completely satiate the hunger—or rather the thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist. Most of the time." His voice turned ominous. "Sometimes it's more difficult than others."

"Is it very difficult for you now?" Bella asked.

Edward sighed. "Yes."

"But you're not hungry now," she said, confidently—stating, not asking.

"Why do you think that?"

"Your eyes. I told you I had a theory. I've noticed people—men in particular—are crabbier when they're hungry."

He chuckled. "You _are_ observant, aren't you?"

Bella didn't answer; she just listened to the sound of his laugh, committing it to memory.

"Were you hunting this weekend, with Emmett and Edythe?" she asked when it was quiet again.

"Yes." He paused for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to say something. "I didn't want to leave, but it was necessary. It's a bit easier to be around you when I'm not thirsty."

"Why didn't you want to leave?"

"It makes me…anxious…to be away from you." His eyes were gentle, but intense, and they seemed to be making her bones turn soft. "I wasn't joking when I asked you to try not to fall into the ocean or get run over on Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. It was a very long three days. I really got on Emmett and Edythe's nerves." He smiled ruefully at her.

"Three days? Didn't you just get back today?"

"No, we got back Sunday."

"Then why weren't any of you in school?" Bella was frustrated, almost angry as she thought of how much disappointment she had suffered because of his absence.

"Well, you asked me if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. But I can't go out in the sunlight—at least, not where anyone can see."

"Why?"

"I'll show you sometime," he promised. Her heart soared at the promise of more time with him.

She thought for a second, and then told him, disgruntled, "You might have called me. Or texted."

He seemed puzzled. "But I knew you were safe."

"But I didn't know you were. I—" she hesitated, dropping her eyes.

"What?" His velvety voice was compelling.

"I didn't like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too." She blushed a little bit at saying it out loud.

He was quiet. Bella glanced up, apprehensive, and saw that his expression was pained.

"Ah," he groaned quietly. "This is wrong."

She couldn't understand his response. "What did I say?"

"Don't you see, Bella? It's one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to be so involved." He turned his anguished eyes to the road, his words flowing almost too fast for her to understand. "I don't want to hear you feel that way." His voice was low, but urgent. His words cut Bella. "It's wrong. It's not safe. I'm dangerous, Bella—I could hurt you, I could hurt your family. Please grasp that."

"No." She tried very hard not to sound like a sulky child.

"I'm serious," he growled.

"So am I. I told you, it doesn't matter what you are. It's too late."

His voice whipped out, low and harsh. "Never say that."

Bella bit her lip and was glad he couldn't see how much that hurt. She stared out at the road. They must be close now—he was driving much too fast.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice still raw. Bella just shook her head. There was no way to explain the swirl of emotions and thoughts inside her brain—thoughts of Beau's laughing face as he chased Bella and Hattie on the beach, or Hattie with her cast sulking quietly as she let her siblings sign it. Thoughts of Charlie, ruffling Bella's hair. None of it mattered anymore.

"Are you crying?" Edward asked, appalled. Bella hadn't noticed the moisture in her eyes had brimmed over. She quickly rubbed her hand across her cheeks—her thoughts had betrayed her.

"No," she said, her voice cracking. He reached for her hesitantly with his right hand, but then he stopped, placing it slowly back on the wheel.

"I'm sorry." His voice burned with regret. Bella knew he wasn't apologizing just for the words that had upset her. "Tell me something," he said, after another minute. He was struggling to use a lighter tone and Bella could tell.

"Yes?" she responded absently.

"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I couldn't understand your expression. You looked—resigned, somehow, but grateful."

"I was happy that Hattie had gotten that phone call," Bella recalled. "Grateful she wouldn't be a part of it, but also…I desperately wished I didn't have to face it alone. I had tried to think of self-defense earlier, but I knew I couldn't fight them all, so I was going to scream."

"You didn't think of running?" Edward seemed upset.

"I fall down a lot when I run," Bella admitted. "I wouldn't have gotten far."

He shook his head. "You were right—I'm definitely fighting fate trying to keep you alive."

They were passing into Forks now. Bella could see the boundaries of the town. It had taken less than twenty minutes.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Bella demanded.

"Yes—I have a paper due, too." He smiled sadly at her. "I'll save you a seat at lunch."

It was silly, after everything they'd been through that night, how that little promise sent hot butterflies through Bella's stomach. It made her unable to speak.

They were in front of Charlie's house. The lights were still on, the cruiser and her truck in the driveway where they should be. Above the garage, one window was lit, the curtains blocking most of the light—the other window was darkened. Everything felt utterly normal. It was like waking from a dream.

He stopped the car, but she couldn't bring herself to move. "Do you promise to be there tomorrow?" she asked in a tiny voice. She reminded herself of Hattie for a moment—trying so hard to be strong and not let any signs of weakness through. And then, in one moment, there the façade goes—right down the drain.

"I promise," Edward murmured.

She nodded, heaving a sigh. With one last whiff of the jacket, she pulled it off, handing it over to him.

"You can keep it—you don't have a jacket for tomorrow," he reminded her.

"Hattie will have fetched mine from Jessica's car. And if not, I'll borrow one of hers…besides, I don't want to explain it to Charlie."

"Oh…right," Edward grinned.

She hesitated as she stepped out of the car, door on the handle.

"Bella?" he asked, his tone different—serious, but hesitant.

"Yes?" she asked, turning back too eagerly to him.

"Will you promise me something? Don't go into the woods alone."

"Why?" Bella responded, confused.

He frowned, and his eyes were tight as he stared past her out the window. "I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there—let's leave it at that. And…keep Hattie out of the woods too, okay?"

Bella shuddered slightly at the bleakness in his voice, but nodded. This was a promise she could keep. It would be harder keeping Hattie out of the woods—especially when she got her cast off next week—but she would try. "Whatever you say," she told him.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he sighed. It was obvious that it was time to leave, but it was still difficult.

"Tomorrow, then." She opened the door unwillingly.

"Bella? Sleep well," he said. His face was just inches from hers, his breath blowing toward her face, stunning her. It was the same scent from the jacket, only concentrated—it fogged her brain a little, dazing her.

It took her another long moment to get a hold of herself, stumbling out of the car and up to the door. She thought she heard him chuckle, but she wasn't sure; the sound was too quiet for her to be certain.

He waited until she had stumbled to the front door, unlocking it. Then she heard his engine rev quietly. Bella turned to watch the silver car back out of the driveway, disappearing around the corner.

She sighed. Time to make excuses to Charlie—and then on to talk to Hattie.

* * *

There you go~ I'll probably post Chapter 18 not long from now (either tonight or tomorrow) since this followed the book so closely. :) Things speed up a hair now, Bella has her own secrets to keep from Hattie, etc.

**QUESTION:** I'm struggling with transitioning into New Moon and the next chapter in Hattie's story (Chapter 41 is giving me hell). How would you guys feel about seeing parts of New Moon from Jacob's point of view? I'll be focusing a lot on Hattie in New Moon and I'm going to try and do something with Beau's character finally, and we all already know Bella's story. Would that be interesting to you guys?


	18. Chapter 18

_\- Follows the first half of Twilight: 10_

* * *

**18.**

_Against slavery, against tyranny, I would gladly go to my death, no matter whose freedom I was defending. ―Sarah J. Maas_

For Hattie, the ride home with Jessica and her crew had been spent in silence on her part. The other girls chattered and giggled, and even gossiped a little about Bella and Edward, but Hattie couldn't bring herself to join in. It had been too long of a night. First the phone call with Severus, then finding the bookstore…sans Bella.

She couldn't quit thinking about the panic she felt when Bella wasn't there, and the blasé way her cousin had addressed it. Edward had "picked her up"…she hadn't even thought to text Hattie. Hattie could only tell herself that it must've been extenuating circumstances—after all, she hadn't been the only one clinging onto their parting hug.

So yes, Hattie spent the ride in silence, her face pressed against the glass of the window. She felt exhausted in the way that only comes from crying long and hard. She knew her eyes were puffy, she was never one of those girls who could cry without anyone knowing it. Jessica and the others had been pretty tactful about ignoring it, but it was obvious even they noticed—Angela had even texted her, but the conversation was a brief one.

Hattie had had Jessica drop her off at the corner and she'd walked the rest of the way, her dress and Bella's jacket folded over her arms. The brisk air caused goosebumps to form on her skin, but also helped clear her brain. She'd taken several, nostril-burning breaths of icy air and tried to reassure herself.

Professor was safe. _(For the time being.)_

Their friends were alive. _(She assumed.)_

This stereo silence was caused by business. _(Unless he was lying.)_

He missed her.

He _missed _her.

Hattie had to hold in her sobs as she tip-toed up the walk and into the garage, quietly shutting herself away. She'd never imagined how isolating it could be to get everything she ever wanted: a family, in a place she enjoyed being, with people she loved. But then, she'd never imagined it would include leaving behind everyone she had ever cared about.

That night she used trivial magic for the first time in a while. It felt like letting her soul unfurl from her body—the coils of magic, invisible, touched the walls and caressed the doorways. It flicked lights on in her path, opened and shut her door behind her, drew her curtains closed. Hattie stood and let it do her bidding, holding herself around the middle as if she would break otherwise. The magic turned down her bed, fetched her books from her trunk, rifled through the pages until it found where she'd left off. It pulled her shirt off over her head, tied her hair up high, dressed her in her nightclothes—all things she hadn't had the luxury of doing privately in weeks.

How would it feel to submit to the regime, Hattie wondered? Where she would be allowed to unleash her magic unrestrictedly whenever and wherever she wanted, without having to fear for her life or the lives of others around her. It would be freedom. It would be liberation.

It would also be the murder and betrayal of her culture and the people dear to her.

Why couldn't she have lived in a time before the regime? She closed her eyes and pictured Boy Hattie—_Harry_—whom she'd dreamed about often enough recently. He got to attend Hogwarts, he got to have friends and he even made a family for himself out of the numerous Weasleys. He got to use his magic freely when he was in the magical world.

But he hated Severus—and Severus hated him. Hattie didn't know if she could ever hate Severus.

Hattie sighed and pulled her magic back into herself. It wouldn't do to let herself go completely—keeping her magic in her core was an exercise, and letting go even for a moment weakened the muscle. It was like constantly sucking your stomach in.

The book she'd pulled out held little interest for her, and after a few moments of attempting to read it she tossed it back in her trunk, restless. She threw herself back onto her bed, under her covers, staring at the ceiling.

It wasn't even eight o'clock, but she felt herself drifting to sleep. She didn't fight it.

That night she dreamt of green light, of a high, maniacal laugh. She dreamt of a woman screaming, pleading.

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—" the woman was screaming.

"This is my last warning—" the high, hissing voice warned.

"Not Harry," the woman begged. "Please…have mercy…have mercy…Not Harry! _Not Harry! _Please—I'll do anything!"

And then silence, and the green light.

Hattie woke up crying some time later, after more disturbing dreams she could not understand—the death of a man she never knew, falling through a curtained veil; writing with a quill which made her—no, Harry—bleed, _I must not tell lies _emblazoned on his hand; eerie floating creatures that turned the room ice-cold and sucked the happiness out of her—Harry.

The dreams became so jumbled in her head that she had a hard time remembering that they were only dreams. It seemed like they'd all been happening to _her. _Like…Harry was a character and she was playing the part.

The most disturbing part? She ached for it to be true.

When she reigned in her emotions, she pulled the blankets up around her neck. Someone—probably Bella—had turned her lights off for her. Hattie blamed her recent lack of emotional stability on her upcoming time of the month, though she'd never reacted this way before.

"What is wrong with me?" she wondered softly. She rolled as best she could onto her side, her preferred sleeping position—but it was impossible with her cast. Still, she struggled, until she cried out in frustration and pain. She was—so _tired_—of this. Of wondering, of aching, of feeling hollow. And now she couldn't even comfort herself, self-sooth in the position of her choice.

In a moment of irrational, unthinking anger, she dashed her fingers over her elbow, feeling the nearly-healed wound. Her magic uncoiled at her first whim—the muscle was loose from her earlier foray. It did her bidding, healing the rest of the broken bone.

It was only after she'd done it that Hattie realized it didn't matter. She wouldn't go back to see Doctor Cullen for another week—she'd still have to deal with the cast, with the immobility. She just hoped that her irrationality wouldn't gain her any suspicion when the next X-Ray came back with no signs of a break having ever been there.

"_Damn _it," Hattie whimpered, rolling out of bed. She landed on the balls of her feet, barely making a noise as she padded barefoot to her desk. She was in her undies and an overlarge t-shirt, and the desk chair was cold on her bum.

She rifled through her drawers for a moment, making too much noise, she was sure. The sun hadn't even broken the horizon yet, but the sky was lightening. She made a noise of success when she finally got one of her journals free.

This was a thin, more modern-looking book than her grimoires: made of paper bound inside a leather jacket, instead of parchment. It already boasted a multitude of full pages in Hattie's messy, curly handwriting.

As she sat there, she began filling another one, her pen flowing smoothly across the page.

_8 March / 9 March _

_Dreamt of Harry again. Someone was trying to save him (? His/our/my mother? Still unclear), screaming, 'have mercy' and offering her own life instead. The killer's voice was high pitched and he seemed amused. He told her to step aside, like he cared specifically for killing Harry—but ended up killing her anyways._

_Also dreamt of a quill that cut me/Harry as we wrote. We must've written a hundred lines, "I must not tell lies". It was emblazoned on his/my hand, a scab and then a scar. What was he lying about? Who made him do this? Did he do it to himself?_

_Was it a reminder, or a warning?_

_Dementors. I remember learning of them, both in Harry's life and in my own. I've never seen one, though the idea of them scares me—Professor taught me the Patronus charm as a precaution and an extra way to communicate. A couple cornered Harry in Little Whinging and Harry saved Dudley's life (can't say I would've done the same, but Harry's always been more honorable than me). The feeling of the thing was horrific: all icy cold and despair, like all that is bad in the world tenfold. Even thinking about it makes me clammy. _

_Someone killed Sirius Black. I want to do research on this man but I don't know where to start—Google brings up no results and prompts me: "Did you mean: __Serious__ Black?" Perhaps he's a fictional character, made up solely for these dreams. It seems odd, though, that I recognize almost everyone else except for him._

_Still, Harry was pretty upset. It seemed as if the world went silent around us as Sirius died. I felt it in my very soul, like a piece of me was suddenly missing…Harry/I tried to go after him, but Remus Lupin held us back. (He is another man I do not recognize, though he was Harry's teacher for a year. Supposedly he was a friend of our parents'. I believe I remember McGonagall, in real life, speaking of a Lupin—but I can't remember her mentioning a forename.) _

Hattie continued chronicling her dreams, but as she came to the end things started getting foggier. She couldn't remember what else, if anything, had happened—it seemed when she was near waking, her dreams were fleeting and immemorable.

The first entry in the book dated all the way back to December—the date was vague, scratched out and written as "_before Christmas?"_ because she hadn't thought to write it down when it actually occurred. It was only as time went on and Hattie dreamt more and more about Harry that she began the journal. That first entry was simple—about a boy in outdated black robes, wearing a red and gold tie with a House Gryffindor sigil whose features morphed into hers.

That morning, Hattie watched the sunrise. It wasn't spectacular. The sky was foggy and dark even long after the sun appeared, promising to be a dreary day. Perfect—the weather would match her mood.

Half of her didn't want to go ask Bella for help getting dressed. Holding her magic inside her was suddenly exhausting; no doubt the result of letting loose last night. She needed to practice again. Some part of her felt guilty that she had risked discovery like that—but she cut it away, telling herself the regime did not reach this far.

The wizards here were not the same as the wizards in Great Britain.

Hattie made up her mind. She had come to Forks for a reason, and she'd waited long enough already—as soon as her cast was off, she would find the wizarding district in Seattle. Afterward, she'd approach the Quileute elders.

When, inevitably, the time came ("Sooner than either of us would like," Severus had said), Hattie was determined she'd be done with her task. She would leave Forks and join in the rebellion—she would smash the regime, personally if necessary. She would ensure the safety of her people. The safety of the family she'd made for herself: Severus and McGonagall and Hermione and Neville and precious Cecelia. She would ensure the war never darkened the Swans' doorstep.

Perhaps she would come back. Perhaps, by the time Severus called upon her, there would be no reason to come back.

She was tired of living in secrecy, wondering when she'd get word one of her loved ones was dead. It hurt to think of leaving Charlie, and it devastated her to think about Jacob—the could-bes, would-bes.

She didn't even try to picture leaving Bella and Beau, who she had begun to think of as siblings—she didn't want to think about the emotions she'd feel.

But until then—she would be free. She would be the girl Charlie would have raised. She would be Hattie Swan.

—x—

Bella and Hattie ate breakfast quietly in the kitchen. Charlie was already gone and Beau was still asleep—yet neither seemed ready to speak about the previous night. Both of them had slept roughly; you could see it in the bags under their eyes, the transparent paleness of their cheeks.

It was at times like this you could see the blatant family resemblance between the duo. The same thin, pale skin, both hunched protectively over their cereal bowls. Even the set of their shoulders was the same as both were determined to hold their silence the longest.

Finally, it was Hattie who broke it. The clatter of her spoon in her bowl was sharp in the stark silence of the kitchen.

"That was nice of Edward, to pick you up," she commented idly. Her tone was almost friendly.

"Yeah," Bella agreed, not quite meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you—"

"I was worried," Hattie interrupted. "What happened to meeting at the bookstore?"

"It didn't look interesting," Bella sighed. She resigned herself to telling as much of the truth as she could.

"Well, it wasn't, but you could've at least texted me."

"I couldn't. I was…preoccupied," Bella said in a strained voice.

"With Edward," Hattie stated.

"No." Bella shook her head. She played with a small curl—it was surprisingly coiled compared to the rest of her wavy hair. "Before Edward found me. I…a few men cornered me, in an alley."

"_What?_" Hattie said, voice sharp. "What do you mean, a few men?"

"I mean, four men. They herded me into an alley. I—I thought I was a goner. Then Edward showed up."

"_Bella,_" Hattie yelped. "That's not just something—I mean, should we tell Charlie?"

"No, I can't remember what they look like now," Bella lied. "Besides, they didn't do anything to me…they just scared me. Edward found us before anything bad could happen."

Hattie was pinching her nose in much the same way Edward had last night. Bella watched, fascinated. It was such a human response to frustration—when Hattie did it, it was clearly an exercise of self-control. What did it mean for Edward, then? Was it the same, or was it a habit leftover from being human?

"After I left," Hattie said slowly. "What'd you guys do? When did you get home?"

Bella shrugged. "We ate dinner. Well, I ate—he didn't order anything. I think he thought I was going to go into shock. We talked. About everything, about nothing. He drives really, really fast—it was terrifying. I swear we got back from Port Angeles in less than twenty minutes!"

She was trying to gloss over the details, the things she couldn't tell Hattie. It sucked keeping secrets, but she feared that Hattie wouldn't handle them well—besides, they weren't her secrets to tell. Still, Hattie seemed aware that Bella was omitting details, but she didn't mention it.

They both knew Hattie was hiding things, too.

"That's crazy," Hattie said, lips quirking in a genuine smile. "I thought _Jessica _drove fast. Man—I'm so ready to start driving again. I can't wait to get this cast off. Do you want to go car hunting soon?"

"Yeah, definitely," Bella agreed. She slurped the milk out of her bowl. "So what about you? What did—your professor have to say? You seemed pretty messed up."

"His name's Severus," Hattie told her softly. She seemed reluctant to share the details. "He…he just told me he's been busy, and that he was sorry he hadn't contacted me. We didn't get to talk much because he was getting ready to go into an important meeting."

"You seemed pretty upset about it though," Bella pried. "There has to be more to it than that."

Hattie nodded, sloshing her cheerios around. "It just was weird, you know? I didn't realize how…isolating it was going to be, coming here. I mean, don't get me wrong—I love you guys, I love being here—it's just that they're my family. You guys will never get me the way they do, and not for lack of trying. I miss him. I think he misses me, too. He doesn't have kids, see—or a wife or anything. I was his whole life."

Bella was reminded of Renee, and decided she'd call her after school. She'd been pretty lax on that, but Hattie's words made her think that Renee probably missed Bella, too.

"Do you think you'll go back?" Bella asked. She could never get a handle on Hattie's past. She and Beau had discussed, jokingly, the possibility of Hattie being in some sort of cult and running away—but she talked so fondly of everything that it was hard to believe.

"Yes, most likely," Hattie decided after a moment. "I'm not sure when. After school, maybe."

Bella traced the woodgrain on the table, put out. "Will you come back?"

"Probably," Hattie laughed. "I'd miss you too much."

Bella felt brave suddenly. The thought of Hattie going back to everything she'd left behind…it hurt her in more ways than one. She'd seen the scars on Hattie's body after weeks of helping the other girl dress. They weren't super serious, but definitely more numerous than any normal seventeen year old's scars. She couldn't fathom why Hattie would want to go back to a family who did that to her.

"Hattie?" she said, before she could talk herself out of it. "Why do you want to go back so badly?"

Hattie startled, looking at Bella confusedly. "What do you mean? I'm just—homesick."

"But how could you be homesick?" Bella demanded. "Hattie, I've seen your scars."

The smaller girl went rigid in her seat. Her green eyes were suddenly piercing, staring through Bella's very soul. It was like being plunged in ice water. Bella shivered, suddenly regretting bringing it up.

"What are you suggesting, Bella?" Hattie asked, her voice deadly precise.

"That you were abused, in some way," Bella stated. She enunciated her words very carefully, forcing herself to finish her self-imposed intervention.

"And?" Hattie challenged. She was pulling the sleeves of her hoodie down around her hands, sort of sinking into herself.

"And I don't know why you'd want to go back to that."

"I _don't,_" Hattie growled. "I'll never go back to them."

"You just said—"

"No, you just assumed," Hattie interrupted. "I said I'd go back, yes. But you assumed I'd be going back to my _relatives. _No, I'm done with them—they wouldn't take me back even if I wanted to go. I was nothing but a pretty face to flaunt for them. Notice that none of my _scars _are visible with clothing on? Yeah, that was purposeful."

It was one thing to speculate and another to have her theories confirmed—Bella's heart broke a little. The thought of what Hattie had gone through at the hands of their aunt and uncle made her quiver with anger.

"So you'd go back and live with this Severus man," Bella stated, trying to keep the waver out of her voice.

"Yes," Hattie agreed. "Or I'd get a place of my own. I have the money."

They were interrupted by the sound of Beau on the stairs. They'd been so preoccupied with their non-argument that they hadn't even heard him stumbling about upstairs. Abruptly, the both of them went quiet, neither needing words to know they'd be keeping quiet for each other.

A secret kept between sisters, almost.

Beau was a floppy, excitable puppy as he bounded down the stairs. He, at least, seemed to be in a good mood today—and it was contagious. Soon, both girls were grinning reluctantly.

"We're gonna be late," Beau pointed out, jabbing a thumb towards the clock above the stove. He was shoving cereal bars in his pockets as he scooped up his backpack. "Let's head."

It was unusually foggy outside; the air was thick and somehow humid with it. After only a few seconds, Bella felt clammy—the mist was ice cold where it clung to her skin. Hattie's already wild hair seemed to have gained a mind of its own, the messy curls frizzing about her head. Even Beau's curls were starting to look more poodle-like than normal. It was such a thick fog that trio were nearly to the end of the driveway before they realized there was a car in it: a silver car.

"Umm," Beau said, scratching his head. "What's Edward Cullen doing in our driveway?"

Bella's heartbeat sped up. So it _wasn't _a hallucination—he really was here.

"He's here for Bella," Hattie said. She and Bella shared a knowing look—it was sort of fun to be on the inside of a secret.

"Why would he be here for Bella?" Beau wondered bemusedly. Bella elbowed him, offended, but Hattie gave out a short laugh.

"C'mon, Beau, let's just get in the car."

Bella didn't see where he came from, but Edward was suddenly there, holding his passenger door open.

"Do you want to ride with me today?" he asked. His voice was gentlemanly, if unsure. He seemed amused by Bella's surprise. He was searching her face—giving her a chance to refuse. Maybe part of him hoped she would…it was a vain hope.

"Yes, thank you," she chirped. She was attempting to imitate Hattie's self-assured, cheerful tone—even if it wasn't working, Edward seemed endeared by it. Bella tossed the keys to Beau, waving goodbye.

"I can drive you all," Edward offered, still in that gentlemanly tone. Bella understood where he was coming from, but she didn't want her siblings riding along.

Before she could even give Hattie a pleading look, her wonderful, angelic, godsent cousin was already speaking.

"That's alright—thanks though!"

Then Bella was in the car, the door shut behind her.

She noticed he had his tan jacket over the headrest of his passenger seat and felt a bubbly happiness build up in her stomach. He must've noticed her looking at it, because he grinned slightly bashfully.

"I brought it in case you hadn't gotten yours back—but I see I shouldn't have worried."

He drove too quickly through the fog-shrouded streets, leaving Beau and Hattie behind in the truck. No doubt Beau was driving extra carefully this morning.

Bella felt awkward today—last night the walls had all been down, but she wasn't sure if they were being as candid today. She felt tongue-tied, waiting for him to speak.

He didn't disappoint. He turned to her, smirking. "No twenty-questions today?"

"I wasn't sure if we were doing that," Bella responded. "Do my questions bother you?"

"Not as much as your reactions do," he admitted. "You take everything so coolly—it's unnatural. It makes me wonder what you're thinking."

Bella frowned. "I always tell you what I'm thinking."

"You edit," Edward hummed. He didn't seem to be arguing so much as adding on to her statement.

Bella couldn't deny this, so she stayed quiet. She was grateful, at this moment, that he couldn't hear her thoughts—happy that she was _allowed _to edit them. After all, it would have been embarrassing (and probably boring) for him to have to hear her ogling.

It was only as they were pulling into the school parking lot that she had a sudden thought. "Where's the rest of your family?" She was glad to be alone with him, of course, but his car was usually full to the bursting. If it didn't have a third row, there would be no way for them to all fit.

(She tried to imagine any of them climbing into the back, but couldn't. She figured that, as with anything they did, it was done with grace.)

"They took Rosalie's car," Edward responded, as they parked next to a glossy orange convertible with the top up. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"

Bella was stunned. "Um…wow. If she has that, why does she ride with you?"

"We _try _to blend in," Edward responded, a smile quirking his lips.

"You don't succeed," Bella laughed, shaking her head as they got out of the car. She wasn't late—though Hattie and Beau, who were nowhere to be seen, might be. Edward's lunatic driving was good for one thing, apparently. "So why did Rosalie drive today, if it's more conspicuous?"

"Haven't you noticed?" Edward murmured, meeting her at the front of his Volvo. He stayed very close to her side as they walked onto campus—but never touching. Bella ached to close the gap, hold his hand, _anything,_ but she was afraid he wouldn't want her to. "I'm breaking all the rules now."

"Why do you have cars like that at all, if you're looking for privacy?" Bella wondered.

Edward chuckled. "An indulgence, I suppose." His smile was impish now. "We all like to drive fast."

"Figures," Bella muttered good-naturedly. They were nearing the cafeteria now, and she finally saw her siblings pull in. "If they're not quick, they're going to be late."

"I hope they don't hold it against me," Edward grinned.

"They won't."

Under the overhang of the cafeteria Jessica stood, gossiping with McKayla. When they noticed Bella and Edward approach, both of them stared on with huge, bug-like eyes. McKayla scurried off to class with a short word to Jessica.

"Hey, Jess," Bella called.

"Good morning, Jessica," Edward said politely. This caused more ogling—it really wasn't _his _fault the things his voice could do.

"Er…hi," Jessica said, shifting her wide eyes to Bella. It was almost funny how blatantly jumbled her thoughts were. "I guess I'll see you in Trig."

She gave Bella a very meaningful look as she hurried off to class, and Bella groaned. What was she going to tell her?

"What are you going to tell her?" Edward asked, echoing Bella's thoughts. She whipped around to stare at him.

"I thought you couldn't read my mind?" she hissed.

"I can't," he responded, visibly startled. Then he seemed to understand, smirking. "I can, however, read hers. She's waiting to ambush you later today."

Bella groaned, running her fingers through her damp hair. They were nearly to class when she finally asked, "What does she want to know?"

Edward chuckled. "That's cheating," he accused. But then he continued, after a moment of deliberation. "She wants to know if we're secretly dating. And she wants to know how you feel about me."

"Yikes," Bella murmured, trying to sound innocent. Her cheeks were red as she stood next to the English building. "What should I say?"

"Hmm." He paused to catch a stray lock of hair that had escaped her up-do, winding it carefully back into place. It was nowhere near as uncomfortable as when Mike had done it—in fact, her heart beat faster, appreciating the feather-light touches of his fingers. "I suppose…you could say yes to the first. If you don't mind, that is."

"I don't mind," Bella assured, maybe a beat too quickly.

"And as for her other question—well, I'll be listening to hear the answer to that one, myself." His cheek pulled up into her favorite half-smile, catching her breath. "I'll see you at lunch," he called over his shoulder.

Three people walking in the door paused to stare at her, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Hattie, who was slightly breathless from the brisk walk up, stopped next to Bella. They walked in together, Beau left in the distance (it seemed Hattie found it amusing that he couldn't keep up with her).

"So…" Hattie said, drawing the word out. "That's a thing now?"

"I guess so," Bella whispered, blushing. Hattie nudged her playfully as they went to their own seats, but Bella was lost in thought. Edward would be listening in to whatever she told Jessica.

How nerve-wracking.

Beau barely made it in the door before the bell rang, glaring grumpily at Hattie as he slouched to his seat, sullen. The girl in question was blatantly ignoring him, a mischievous smile on her face.

After English Mike accosted her, asking about Port Angeles. It seemed more of a ruse to ask about Jessica, though—Bella assured him that Jessica had fun on their date, and he seemed appeased.

Edward was right, of course. When she walked into Trig after Government, Jessica was seated in the back, nearly bouncing out of her seat in agitated excitement. Bella wondered if she could get away with skipping, or at least sitting elsewhere for the day—but she'd already been spotted.

She walked over reluctantly, taking her seat. She tried to convince herself it was like ripping a band-aid off—less painful to just get it over with than to drag it out.

"Tell me everything!" Jessica commanded, even before Bella had sat.

"There's not much to tell," Bella sighed, even though that was the biggest lie of the century. Still, if she couldn't tell her _sister, _there was no way she could tell Jessica.

"What happened last night?" Jessica prompted, seeming to ignore Bella completely.

"He bought me dinner," Bella responded, shortly. "And drove me home."

Jessica processed this for a second, glaring at her with skepticism. "But how did you get home so fast?"

"He drives like a maniac. It was terrifying." (She definitely hoped he heard that bit.)

"Was it like a date—did you tell him to meet you there?"

Bella shook her head, trying not to roll her eyes. If only Jessica knew. "No, I was very surprised to see him there."

Jessica's lips puckered in disappointment—clearly at the transparent honesty in Bella's voice. "Okay, but he picked you up for school today?"

"Yes…that was a surprise, too. He noticed I didn't have a jacket tonight—but Hattie brought mine home."

Jessica huffed. Clearly this wasn't as gossip-worthy as she wanted. "Are you going to go out again?"

"He offered to drive me to Seattle," Bella said. Then, she elaborated, "But only because he doesn't think my truck is up to the drive. Does that count?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, yes."

"_Wow._" The word somehow gained two extra syllables when Jessica breathed it. "Edward Cullen."

"I know," Bella agreed, smiling lightly.

"Wait!" her hands flew up, palms facing outward—like she was stopping traffic. "Has he _kissed _you yet?"

"No," Bella said. Though she tried to hide it, she could clearly hear the disappointment in her own voice. "Not yet."

Jessica looked, if possible, more disappointed than Bella felt. "Do you think Saturday…?"

Bella shook her head, frowning. "I really don't think so, Jess." The discontent in her voice was poorly disguised.

"Please, Bella," Jessica begged. "Give me some details!"

"Okay, fine," Bella sighed. "I've got one. You should've seen the waitress flirting with him—it was over the top. But he didn't pay attention to her at all."

"That's a good sign," Jessica nodded. "Was she pretty? He doesn't look at Hattie, either."

Bella's eyebrows pulled together at the insinuation that Hattie was prettier than her—even if it was true, it wasn't something you wanted to hear. There was just something about the girl that drew others to her. She was like a princess, _regal, _or a fairy. Not the kind of super-model gorgeous the Cullens possessed, but polished. Still—Jess was right. Edward sometimes looked at Hattie, but not with that sort of interest.

It was pleasing to her.

"Yeah, very pretty," she continued, pushing away her thoughts. They were petty, anyways. "And older—maybe nineteen, twenty."

"Even better," Jess gushed quietly. The teacher wasn't paying them any attention and they were hardly the only ones whispering. "He must like you."

"I think so," Bella agreed. "But it's hard to tell sometimes. He's always so cryptic."

"I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with him," Jessica breathed, almost wistfully. "He's so…intimidating. I wouldn't know what to say to him."

Bella's lips quirked up. "I do have some trouble with incoherency when I'm around him."

"Oh well," Jessica shrugged. "He's unbelievably gorgeous." She said it like it excused any flaws he might have…which, for Jessica, it probably did.

"There's a lot more to him than that," Bella protested, but she wished she'd let it go. She hoped he'd been kidding about listening in.

"Really? Like what?"

"I can't explain it right—you just have to trust me. He's even more unbelievable behind the face."

Bella stared off into the center of the room, lost in thoughts of the previous night. The vampire who wanted to be good—who protected her—who cared whether she lived or died. Yes…a lot more to him than beauty.

"So you like him, then?" Jessica prompted eagerly. She wasn't about to give up.

"Yes," Bella said, curtly. She didn't want Edward listening in to something like this.

"How much do you like him?" she urged, clearly wanting the gossip. Bella rolled her eyes for real this time.

"Too much," Bella elaborated. "More than he likes me, I'm sure. But I don't see how that can be helped."

She continued blushing, but now there was a small smile on her face. She could finally understand why Hattie seemed so lost in her text messages whenever the phone went off—if her sister felt for Jacob half of what Bella felt for Edward, it was all the explanation she'd ever need.

* * *

As always, any questions or comments are appreciated!

**QUESTION:** Is there anything you'd particularly like to see Beau getting up to? Note that his final pairing is mostly decided already, but a lot of his story is up in the air right now. I debated sending him away to art school, I debated making him some sort of graffiti artist, I debated him getting bit by a werewolf, etc. I just don't know what I want to see from him!


	19. Chapter 19

_\- We skip the infamous lunch scene with Eddie and Bells where they discuss what Edward heard in Jessica's mind. If you want to read it, if only for continuity, it's Twilight Chapter 10 (Interrogations). (You can find it easily online.)_  
_\- Also, you will have noticed that the Cullens DO eat food...in my canon, they eat it for appearances. It tastes fine, if unsatisfying._

* * *

**19.**

"_You want meaning? Well, the meanings are out there. We're just so damn good at reading them wrong." —Rachel Cohn_

The tell-tale weight of a letter dropped into Hattie's pocket as she and Beau made their way toward lunch. Or, rather, _tried _to drop into her pocket—the shoddy, imprecise magic missed, catching only the corner of her pocket and then dropping onto the floor.

Her heart beat painfully as she stared down at the letter. It was folded in fours, like Severus always did, but the handwriting was crisper, less script-like. She'd never seen it before, and the magic that had brushed the skin of her hip was unfamiliar to her. The first thing that had ran through her mind was "dark wizard", but she'd shaken it out, reassuring herself.

This was not how one normally used the banishing spell. It was thinking outside the box. If someone else had randomly decided to use this method to contact her, it would be a huge coincidence. Still, the fact that she didn't recognize the writer's magic was off-putting: it meant either Severus' mind had been probed, or he had trusted this person enough to give away secrets.

Either way, she was weary.

She had spent too long staring at the letter on the ground. Beau's pale hand bent down to scoop it up as he caught her attention.

"Are you feeling alright, Hattie?" he asked, snapping his fingers in front of her face. She blinked wildly, coming out of her thoughts.

"What? Oh, yes. I just—got lost for a moment," she laughed, taking the letter from him. "Sorry about that."

"You got a new letter?" he wondered as they continued walking. "That's good, right?"

"Yeah, I haven't read it yet," Hattie said. "I've been caught up—Professor called me last night, so I figured the letter couldn't be too urgent."

The lies slipped through her lips much too easily, and for a moment she felt guilty. But Beau just continued, being his cheerful self.

"I might actually head to the truck and read this," Hattie decided after a minute. "You head on without me, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Beau waved as he pulled away from her. "Want me to get you anything?"

"Nah, I brought lunch," she called, turning to shoulder her way through the crowds. Now that she had healed her arm, she didn't baby it quite as much—not so scared of being jostled. The cast was merely an annoyance, a hindrance.

The truck was unlocked, so she climbed in with a little bit of struggling. It was just high enough that she couldn't step in, and with the cast it could be tricky to climb, but she made it. The cab was dry and warm enough that Hattie shed her jacket and book bag, curling against the door.

The letter had her name written neatly on the front: Miss Hattie Potter. The formality made her lips twitch a little—she didn't think anyone had called her 'Miss' in a long time.

Inside was more of the same neat, crisp handwriting. Her heart nearly stopped when she read the first line:

_ Forgive me for my informality. I know you don't know me, but my name is Remus Lupin. _

It was merely a coincidence, she was sure. Mr. Lupin had no way of knowing she'd dreamt of him only the night previously—without having met him a single time. She shoved away the itchy paranoia that tried to build inside of her and continued reading the letter.

_ Hattie,_

_ Forgive me for my informality. I know you don't know me, but my name is Remus Lupin. I was a friend of your father's. James and I grew up together. We attended Hogwarts—we were both in Gryffindor. I'm not sure how much this means to you, given you've never been granted the same opportunity, but Severus said you'd like to know all the same._

_ Speaking of Severus—he is well. I've been trying to write this letter for a few days now, so I believe you may have already spoken to him by the time this gets to you. As I'm sure you've already assumed, he is the one who told me how to correspond with you._

_ I've been out of the country for many years and have never had the opportunity to meet you. (Dare I say it, even if I had been in the country, we probably still would never have met.) Severus told me to be rather discreet in my correspondence with you, lest these letters fall into hands other than your own, so forgive me for not elaborating._

_ However, I _did _know you as an infant. Your first word was 'Moony', did you know? James and our other friends gave me that moniker as children, and he was at once amused and irritated that you said my name before his own. _

_ I have recently joined your alliance—your 'network' as Severus says. I was a part of it back in the day, when Albus Dumbledore was still around, and it's simultaneously refreshing and stark to see the familiar faces…and all those who are missing. The missions we are discussing now involve high personal risk, and so I found myself regretting never having contacted you before._

_ From what I gather, pieced together from the mouths of your alliance, Severus practically raised you. I'm grateful for that. You see, James and our friends—yes, including myself—were never kind to Severus when we were children. It was petty schoolyard bullying. I'm ashamed to have been a part of it, but I have made my peace with Severus. I hope he did well by you—from what the others say, you are a brilliant young girl. I hope to one day meet you and decide for myself. _

_ Hattie, I'm writing you now because I am a part of your history. My…partner…is your godfather. You will not have met him either: Sirius Black has been imprisoned within the regime ever since your parents were killed. I may very well die in the upcoming missions Severus has planned. I am writing you because I want you to know I have always cared about you. The very thought of you has kept me going these past fifteen years. Though I never contacted you, I never once forgot about you: in my darkest hours, you were the light that pushed me onwards. _

_ Severus informed me of your greatest desire, to become an Animagus. It warms my heart in a way I haven't felt for many years, Hattie. Did you know your father was one? Did you know your godfather was? It was always their dream to pass their legacy down to you one day. _

_ "The Marauders," we called ourselves. It is with pride (and a heavy heart, and many tears) that I pass down our secrets. Once you have read this letter, place it on a flat surface—I'm ashamed to say that banishing this letter to you is going to be difficult enough, let alone an entire package._

_ I'm sorry, but I could not include our greatest heirloom. Perhaps, when all is said and done, you will be given the Map. Until that time, I hope you will appreciate the rest._

_ I apologize if this is forward, but I would greatly appreciate it if you wrote me back. _

_ With love, _

_ Moony_

Hattie's mind was whirring a million miles a minute. She was trying to connect everything, fill in puzzle pieces, but all she could think of was her dream the previous night, and _no wonder Harry was upset when Sirius died…he was our godfather…_

After a moment, she finally forced herself to lay the letter flat, watching it greedily. Heirlooms, especially from her father, were not something she had many of…in fact, she didn't have _anything _from him.

Mr. Lupin—Remus—_Moony _was an untapped fountain of information, and so _genuine _to boot. In very few words he explained why Severus had never wanted to be Hattie's father—essentially, he would've been likened to his childhood bully. The knowledge made her want to cry. It wasn't that Severus didn't _want _her; he just didn't want to be James Potter.

And all these years she had thought him simply cold.

At the same time, Moony had left Hattie with more knowledge of her babyhood and family history than she'd ever had. The _Marauders, _he said. A legacy.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the letter glowed bright white. When the glow diminished, there was a shrunken packaged deposited precisely in the center of the letter.

She was too eager to wait. She unshrunk the package with a murmured _finite, _after glancing around to see if there was anyone nearby. The package was compact, but hefty, held closed with clear packing tape. She tore into it, excited.

Within, she found…not what she was expecting.

On top was an out-of-style wizard's robe. It was a silvery, silky material that she couldn't place—perhaps from a magical creature. She pulled it out carefully, noting that it was old: its cut was even older than the robes Severus sometimes wore. A note fell out, scrawled in Moony's crisp handwriting.

_Family heirloom, passed down through Potter heirs. Cloak of Invisibility._

Invisibility? Hattie thought, shocked. She laid it over her thighs and laughed, nearly giddy with excitement—her thighs were completely gone. What a treasure! And it had not just come from her father, but her absent ancestors. She pulled it to her chest, inhaling deeply. It smelled smoky, like ozone and petrichor…like a wizard. And, at the same time, it smelled like it had been in storage for many years…like mothballs and cardboard.

She tried to hide her disappointment, but Hattie didn't know what she was expecting. Her father had been dead for nearly 16 years. Of course his old cloak wouldn't smell of him anymore.

Underneath was _The Marauder's Grimoire. _It was full of spells and potions Hattie had never heard of—mostly used for silly things, like pranks. Some were more complex than others, and it was a mixture of four different sets of handwriting that filled the book.

Midway through it was a bookmark with her name on it. She flipped the book open to the marker, curiosity burning through her.

_**The Marauders' Fantastic Journey to Becoming Animagi.**_

_No. _Moony couldn't have possibly gotten her a first-hand account—Hattie's eyes searched the pages hungrily, taking in the words. He _had _gotten her a first-hand account. And, not only that—in the box was another book, an actual published guide on the journey to becoming an Animagus. The grimoire was annotated with page numbers from the book, and the book had notes in the margin.

This…was amazing. This was the best gift anyone had ever given her.

And yet, impossibly, there was one more thing in the package. It was a photo album full of magical photos, mostly of the same three boys: one was clearly her father—she looked just like him. One she recognized as a young Sirius Black, looking much the same as he did in her dreams. The last must be Moony. Nearer to the back, though, were ones that included Lily Potter.

One glorious photo was of Lily and James holding Hattie, dressed in a powder blue Babygro. Lily was smiling tiredly, but proudly, looking between Hattie's face and the camera. James was grinning full-on, using one hand to make Hattie wave. He never looked away from her chubby face.

Hattie slipped the photo out of its album, murmuring a soft word to freeze it in place. Then she packed everything else back into the package and reshrunk it, placing it carefully into her book bag.

She couldn't stop looking at the photo of her tiny family. The bell eventually rang, though, signaling the end of lunch, and Hattie dashed a few traitorous tears away.

As she slid out of Bella and Beau's monstrous truck, Hattie was filled with the obsessive need to write Moony.

—x—

Bella was eager to meet up with Hattie during gym, but when Edward left her—feeling wobbly and dazed—she was running late. They didn't get a chance to do more than smile and wave before Mike caught her and asked to team up.

They played badminton, and it did _not _go smoothly. Somehow Bella managed to hit both herself and Mike in the same swing. Across from them, Jessica and Beau were laughing, and Mike managed to single-handedly win four of their five games.

Then, even afterward, Bella had a hard time shaking her puppy-dog friend. He followed her to the mouth of the women's locker room, vibrating like a toddler with an energy drink.

"So," he said, almost reluctantly. Bella glanced up at him, noticing that Hattie was making her way over slowly. She tried to will her sister to move a little faster.

"So what?" she murmured cautiously.

"You and Cullen, huh?" Mike asked rebelliously. His vibrating stopped, and any affection Bella may have held for him suddenly disappeared.

"That's none of your business, Mike," Bella warned. She thought about cursing Jessica's big mouth, but anybody who had been paying attention during the day could've come to the same conclusion.

"I don't like it," Mike muttered anyways, eyes dark.

"You don't have to," Bella snapped.

"He looks at you like…like you're something to eat," Mike retorted, ignoring her.

Bella choked back the sudden hysteria that statement brought on, letting only a tiny giggle escape—Mike was glowering at her, but luckily Hattie arrived. Finally. Mike could clearly see that the conversation wouldn't be continuing and fled to his own locker room, allowing Bella and Hattie to shoulder into the women's.

"Haven't seen much of you today," Hattie commented. "Boyfriend might have to learn his boundaries."

"'Boyfriend', is he?" Bella teased hollowly, the word sending butterflies through her stomach.

"You looked pretty cozy during biology," Hattie affirmed, sending a sneaky smile at Bella. It warmed her slightly—clearly their conversation from this morning was forgiven, even if Bella was sad that her cousin-come-sister was abused in any way growing up.

"You saw all that?" Bella asked as she began changing. Hattie made herself comfortable on the bench, careful to avert her eyes from the girls surrounding them.

"Yeah, I noticed you jump when he touched you," Hattie giggled.

"Oh—yeah…this is so cliché, but it was like electricity," Bella explained quietly. "When he touches me, it feels like I've got electricity running through my veins. And before gym, too, he touched my cheek and it was burning hot."

Hattie smiled wistfully. "Sounds nice. Romantic," she murmured.

"You don't have that, with Jacob?" Bella asked curiously. They were the last ones in the dressing room now. Bella's stomach lurched as she wondered if Edward would be waiting for her—or if she was going to go home with her siblings. Maybe his family would be with him. She fought the thrill of terror at the thought; did they know that she knew about them? Bella shook her head, focusing back on Hattie.

Hattie was leaning back against the lockers, staring off into the distance. "You know, it's hard to say. We have not spent that much time physically together. But there was once…Well. He is warm, though—sometimes so warm it's like a fever. I am always focused on the feeling of him rather than the emotions he brings. Does that make sense?"

"I guess so," Bella agreed. They both came to the conclusion that it was time to leave at seemingly the same moment, because Hattie surged to her feet. "Are you looking forward to the dance?"

"I am nervous," Hattie sighed. "But at the same time, I know I do not have to be nervous. It's like Jacob is mine already."

"I wish I felt the same…" Bella muttered. "Anyways, I think I'm going to skip Seattle on Saturday."

"Oh? What are you going to do?"

"Edward invited me to hang out with him," Bella said secretively. "He wanted me to tell someone, but I don't think Charlie would approve."

Hattie looked conflicted but nodded a little. "You do not really want him to know."

"Not yet," she murmured. "I'm sorry for putting this on you…"

Hattie smiled. "No, it's okay. What are sisters good for, anyways?"

Bella glanced up to see Hattie's smile fall, and the girl looked openly embarrassed. Bella herself was surprised…she was always thinking, privately, that Hattie was her sister, but they hadn't discussed it before. Hattie was opening her mouth to correct herself as they exited the locker room, but she quickly interrupted the girl.

"No, you're right," Bella said hastily, cutting Hattie off. They both came to a stop outside the doors. "You're my sister in every way that counts."

Hattie was blushing, not looking Bella in the eye. "It was presumptuous."

"I always think of you as my sister," Bella reassured, a little awkwardly. Sometimes, interactions with Hattie were like those of an attention-starved puppy. After their conversation this morning, it made much more sense.

"Really?" Hattie whispered, blinking rapidly. "I'm…thank you."

Then, abruptly, they were hugging. Bella froze in shock at the sudden movement, the resounding thud of Hattie's bag hitting the floor. The girl was very good at hugging, tight, put-all-your-pieces-back-together kind of hugs. It was strange for Bella—she didn't usually hug people.

"What's going on?" Beau's anxious voice cut in. Their brother was coming out of his own locker room—always the last one. "Edward? Why is Hattie crying?"

Bella glanced up and found her…_boyfriend _standing several feet away, watching the scene with curious (and yet concerned) eyes. Hattie pulled away, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"Nothing, I'm okay," Hattie laughed wetly, leaning down to get her bag. Edward was there first, handing it off before retreating to Bella's side. "Thanks, Edward."

"Bella?" Beau muttered, looking between the girls. He looked like he was going insane.

"Sometimes, sisters have secrets," Bella replied mysteriously, trying to answer his question without setting Hattie off.

Beau seemed to get it, mouthing 'sisters' as he ran his hand through his hair. It seemed to defy gravity, getting larger with his frustration levels.

"Well, we best get on with it," Hattie chuckled nervously, her accent thick. "You're going with Edward, Bella?"

"Um, yes," Bella agreed hastily. "See you at home."

She watched her siblings leave, turning to Edward with some trepidation. He was glancing between the three of them, obviously trying to figure them out.

"What was that about?" he wondered as he began to usher them toward the parking lot.

"I told Hattie I was going to be with you on Saturday," Bella said. "She mentioned she'd keep it a secret from Charlie, because that's what sisters did. Cue the conversation you saw."

"She's a strange one," Edward replied, eyebrows furrowed. "I can never get a read on her."

"What do you mean?" Bella asked. She was sure to keep her voice down, though most of the students were already long gone.

"Besides her mind? She kept thinking about a 'professor', something to do with the moon, and you two. I got the impression she was thinking about her family, but it's so very hard to hear her…a lot of it is interpretation. She always has strange thoughts—sometimes I wonder if she's thinking in a language I can't comprehend, and things get lost in translation." He sounded frustrated, yet fascinated.

"She is a strange one," Bella agreed quietly. "But she's been through a lot, Edward. Give her some slack if her thoughts are a little odd."

"It's not just her thoughts," Edward muttered. His eyes were now on Hattie, across the parking lot, as Beau helped her into the truck. "She smells…different."

"Different how?" Bella questioned. She hadn't noticed anything weird about her sister's scent, truthfully. There were other things: the journals she kept (Bella could never bring herself to open them), the way she somehow radiated static electricity (Bella had been zapped on multiple occasions) …and she still was half-convinced Hattie was part of a religious cult and had run away.

"Most of the time she smells like…hm. How to explain it to a human?" he pondered. "It's different than the scents you put on your body, it's an…internal smell, like pheromones I guess. Her shampoo smells like vanilla, but it's underneath that: she smells like sunshine warming a calm riverbed, like the spray of mist at the bottom of a waterfall. And at other times she smells like electricity…like something just struck by lightning, like the pavement after heavy rainfall as it warms in the sun."

"Petrichor," Bella said idly.

"Pardon?"

"The pavement, after a heavy rainfall, as it warms in the sun. That scent is petrichor."

"I see," Edward said bemusedly. "Yes, petrichor. Regardless, it is strange. Most humans don't smell that way…they smell like food."

Bella paused on their way to his car—the orange convertible was gone by now, as were most of the other cars. She didn't like that Hattie didn't smell like food to him, it rubbed her in a weird way.

"What do I smell like?" she asked, playing at neutral.

"Like fresh fruit," Edward responded immediately. "Berries and citrus fruits, coconuts, melons. You've got a crisp, pure scent—not like some of the other humans I've encountered, who just smell like meat."

Well, okay then. That wasn't nearly as insulting as Bella had imagined. Suddenly she didn't care as much that Hattie smelled like a waterfall.

Of course, they arrived at Charlie's house much faster than should have been possible. Bella didn't look out the windows for most of the way. As he parked the Volvo at the end of her driveway, behind the truck, Bella suddenly remembered their lunch conversation.

"It's later," she said, turning to Edward.

"And you still want to know why you can't see us hunt," Edward clarified, solemnly. He couldn't keep the slightest trace of humor from his eyes, though.

"Well, I was mostly wondering about your reaction," Bella explained. He had been so adamantly against it, nearly shouting at her.

"Did I frighten you?" he asked—and yes, there was definitely humor in his voice.

"No," she lied, reluctant to give him the satisfaction. Of course, he saw right through it anyways.

"I apologize for scaring you," he persisted, with a tight smile. Then, all evidence of teasing disappeared. "It was just the very thought of you being there…while we hunted." His jaw tightened, and she saw him swallow.

"That would be bad," Bella stated.

His teeth were clenched as he answered. "Extremely."

"Because…?"

He took a deep breath as he stared out the window, watching the clouds roll by. They were thick, oppressive, threatening rain at any moment.

"When we hunt…" his voice was slow, unwilling. "We give ourselves over to our sense…govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way…" he shook his head, still gazing out the window. One of the curtains in the kitchen twitched but didn't open.

Bella kept her expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of his eyes that soon followed. Her face gave nothing away, but their gaze held. The silence deepened—changed. Flickers of the electricity she'd tried explaining to Hattie began charging the atmosphere as he gazed unrelentingly into her eyes. It wasn't until her head started to swim that she realized she wasn't breathing. When she drew in a jagged breath, breaking the stillness, he closed his eyes.

"Bella, I think you should go inside now." His low voice was rough, sending shivers down her spine, but his gaze was on the clouds again.

She got out of the car, taking care not to stumble in her woozy state. As she latched the door shut, he rolled the window down, catching her attention again.

"Oh, and Bella?"

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow it's my turn."

"Your turn to what?"

He flashed a grin at her. "Ask the questions."

And then he was gone—nothing but a flash of silver SUV rounding the corner. Bella smiled to herself as she walked toward the house, anticipating an ambush.

At least he was planning on seeing her tomorrow, if nothing else.

But, luckily, the ambush did not come—Hattie and Beau were laughing in the kitchen, hunched over a stack of photo albums.

"Oh, look at this one—this must be Aunt Petunia's wedding, look, it's Charlie and Renee and your parents, Hattie," Beau was pointing out. It was an old album of Charlie's, Bella noted as she came closer. "Look, Bells," Beau chuckled when he noticed her.

The picture indeed was Petunia's wedding. It was stuffy-looking, formal. Petunia was wearing a vintage, frilly wedding dress that might have been gorgeous on anyone else, but it didn't quite fall right on her. Her husband was a hefty, rather over-weight man wearing a tuxedo that, while fitted, did nothing for his figure. They stood on one side of the photo, both wearing stiff, fake smiles. Next to them were Charlie and Renee. Both looked young, the light still in their eyes: Charlie's hair was full and curly, no greys. Renee even looked put together, her arm twisted through Charlie's lovingly.

Then, to the right, was the last Evans sibling. It was funny, in a way, that the Evans name had died out with their grandparents: Petunia took the name Dursley, Lily took the name Potter, and Charlie, the only boy, had been persuaded to take Swan. It was a concept much rarer then than it was now: almost frowned upon. But Renee hadn't wanted to part with what she called a beautiful, elegant name.

(Funny how she was now a Dwyer. Perhaps some part of her had known, even then, that the marriage wouldn't last.)

Lily and James were the most lively of the group. Lily was easily the most beautiful—even if Bella was reluctant to admit so, on behalf of her mother—and James Potter was one of the most dashing men Bella had ever seen. It was no wonder their daughter was beautiful. Lily wore a simple, pale green dress and a cover up that slipped off her shoulders. Her flaming red hair was in an intricate braid off to one side and she wore no makeup over her freckly face. James had dress pants and a button up on, his tie matching Lily's dress. Glasses slid down his aristocratic nose, and his wild hair looked perfectly styled that way.

"Wow, you really look like your dad," Bella said, blinking. "Except you have your mom's eyes."

"And her lips," Hattie added, rubbing her thumb over her own lips. They were full, puffy lips—actually almost too large for her cherubic face. It somehow fit her, though.

"Why did you guys get the photos out?" Bella wondered, grabbing one to flip through. It happened to be pretty empty, but it was clearly Hattie's—there was a picture of her and Charlie fishing, of Jacob and Hattie asleep on a couch, Hattie putting the star on Charlie's Christmas tree. Even a handful more, like Beau and Hattie holding up clay sculptures at school, or Bella and Hattie curled up in her hospital bed after Hattie's accident.

"Hattie's dad's friend sent her a picture," Beau explained.

Hattie was already handing it over. It was of Lily and James again, slightly older now, a few worry lines around their eyes. They held baby Hattie between them, looking all at once proud and tired.

"Awh, you're so cute, Hattie," Bella chuckled. "Why do they have you dressed in blue, though? Weren't they pretty strict about gender roles back then?"

Her own mother had been _very _strict about it back when they were kids. There were plenty of pictures of Bella and Beau in coordinating outfits—only Bella was in pinks and purples and Beau was in blues and greens. 'Girl' colors and 'boy' colors.

Hattie took the photo back and eyed it with some curiosity, her eyebrows drawing together. "Yeah, I don't know," she murmured, half-hearted.

"Maybe it was hand-me-downs from a friend," Beau said. "Or maybe your parents were just really modern."

"You're probably right," Hattie said, seeming to be elsewhere. "Anyways, I think I'm going to retire, alright? I have a book calling my name upstairs. Make my excuses to Uncle Charlie, alright?"

She took her albums and left the kitchen absent-mindedly. Beau and Bella glanced each other, wondering what was going on with their sister.

That night, long after they'd all parted ways—even Hattie was asleep in bed, with a book and one of her journals spread out before her—Bella slipped into a restless sleep. She dreamt of Edward, his intense gaze, the electricity that had charged the afternoon. She tossed and turned in her sleep, seeking friction she could not find.

* * *

Things are moving along! :D In this chapter we had:  
\- Moony's introduction!  
\- Some background on some of the Potters' family (Sirius, imprisoned-Moony left alone-the Marauders' bullying)  
\- Hattie receives some Marauder/Potter heirlooms!  
\- Bella and Hattie share a sweet moment  
\- Edward explains about Hattie's scent not smelling like food (for any of you wondering at his control when Hattie was bleeding everywhere, this is why) and how she's "strange"  
\- A little background on the Evans' family

Hope you liked it :) 3 Still having trouble with Chapter 41. I need to get on with it soon!


	20. Chapter 20

_\- Follows the timeline of Twilight: 11 through Twilight: 12_

* * *

**20.**

"_If I kiss you all day every day for the rest of my life, it won't be enough." ―__Cassandra Clare_

After Hattie had departed, she retreated to her room and isolated herself. She kicked her shoes and pants off, shed her bra with magic (once again guiltily telling herself she was done using magic), and curled up in bed. She had the picture Moony had sent her along with a fresh grimoire (charmed to be muggle-repellant), the book on Animagi, and the Marauders' grimoire.

The picture frustrated her. What Bella had said—about her wearing blue, and the gender roles—was really getting to her. Why _was _she wearing blue? It was probably just a quirk of her parents', or maybe it was like Beau had said, they'd been hand-me-downs. It just rubbed her the wrong way. All of the dreams about 'Harry' and Moony contacting her shortly after she dreamed about him the first time? It just seemed like too much to be coincidence, and now this picture of her wearing a boy's outfit…

But she was a girl. She had breasts, though small, and lady parts, and all. She even got her period, for heaven's sake—irregularly, but it did make its appearance. And she had _urges, _of course, just like every other teenage girl!

The only thing that she could even think was, perhaps, she'd had a brother. It didn't make sense, either. Nobody mentioned him, if he existed—and if he had existed, if he was this Harry person, then her parents weren't nearly old enough to have birthed a child seventeen years older than Hattie. Her parents had been very young, only twenty, when Hattie was born. If she had a brother he'd have to be her age or slightly older.

It didn't add up. She would have to ask Severus.

In an attempt to relax, she pulled out the Marauder's grimoire and opened it up to the start of their 'fantastic journey'.

It was written in a very back-and-forth manner between three boys. The first was Siri, whom Hattie could make the logical conclusion was Sirius Black (her _godfather…_). He was very silly, often straying off into tangents that had nothing to do with Animagi. The second was a boy called Pete, or sometimes Petey-boy, who didn't have much to add. He didn't seem super brilliant, unlike the other two, but he definitely wasn't dumb either—he mentioned several findings he'd researched and thought they should include. The third was Jamie—obviously Hattie's father. He was silly like Sirius, but driven, well-thought. He seemed smart, keeping the others on topic.

Moony didn't seem to be included in the first half of the project, apparently a surprise for him because of his "furry little secret" (whatever that meant).

The first several pages were explanations and research the boys had done. It was before they'd acquired the book Hattie now had in her possession, so there were no references made, but they did include notes.

It was well-documented back then that the start of any Animagi journey was to find your spirit animal. Before it was researched, many people assumed this was the form your Patronus took—this assumption was wrong. The Patronus was your protector, not your spirit animal. Thus, it could change form, something your Animagus could not do.

There were several ways to find your spirit animal, including a seer-guided spiritual journey (which may or may not produce results), but the easiest way was uncontestably via potion.

The boys (who had dubbed themselves the Marauders) had many qualms about beginning this potion. It was a lot of work, and even though they were positive that Sirius' potions prowess was up to par, it was not something they really wanted to risk. Plus, should the potion go awry, they would have to start over…and the hardest part was, unfortunately, a month long.

A month holding a mandrake leaf within your mouth.

This discouraged Hattie. She was unsure how she'd go about acquiring a mandrake leaf—she hadn't sought out the nearby wizarding community yet, admittedly mostly out of fear. Besides that, she wasn't sure how she would keep one in her mouth for a month undetected. But she persevered. Becoming an Animagus without a teacher was illegal, so obviously the boys must've figured out some way to fly under the radar.

Indeed, they had. One of the findings that Pete had researched was a way to form the mandrake leaf to fit the roof of your mouth. It was a spell normally used by clothiers, and it wasn't usually used inside your mouth, but it seemed to work just fine. Adding the spell and a notice-me-not to the leaf would keep away questioning eyes.

The potion was rather simple, and Hattie could find most of the ingredients in a grocery store. She would need a couple from an apothecary, but she would have to go to one for a mandrake leaf anyways. It only took a day and a half to brew, but it was time-consuming: she'd have to plan it right so that she could be undisturbed in her room for the majority of the time.

The boys had no trouble brewing it. Supposedly, Siri was an O-level potioneer, and Jamie was not far behind. Their problems lay with the leaf.

Pete couldn't handle the feeling of it in his mouth and ended up removing it two weeks in, and had to start over. Siri's came out by accident with a poorly-aimed _finite _from Jamie after four days, and they nearly saved it, but Siri laughed and spat it out. Jamie was nearly discovered because he forgot his notice-me-not and "Minnie" got suspicious.

In the end, the trio managed it—Jamie first, exactly one month after first placing the leaf. His spirit animal was a large, majestic buck. Siri wrote that they were thinking of nicknames already. His own revelation came a month later (due to the necessity of the full moon during the process), with the realization that his spirit animal was the Grim. A huge, hulking black dog, said to be an omen of death. And then, the same day as Siri, Pete wrote simply that his was a rat.

This was where part one of the journey ended. Hattie closed the Marauder's Grimoire and opened her own, starting to jot down notes. She must've fallen asleep midway through, because when she woke, it was morning.

When Hattie got downstairs, having shrugged on a long, soft cotton dress (very easy to get over her cast), Bella was being interrogated by Charlie. He was very curious about her plans for Saturday, and apparently assumed that Bella just wasn't asked.

"It's a girl's choice dance," Hattie said cheerfully as she sat down. With her school and Charlie's work she felt like she hardly saw him anymore. After dinner one of them was always too tired to stick around and hang out.

"And I didn't want to ask anyone," Bella reiterated, scooting her chair closer to Hattie's. "Besides, we both know I don't dance."

"Heck yeah she doesn't," Beau shouted, nearly falling down the stairs himself as he joined them. "I probably shouldn't either, but I couldn't say no."

Charlie himself just chuckled, obviously reassured that going to Seattle was the safer choice for Bella. Hattie smiled to herself as she thought about what he would say if he knew she was actually going to hang out with a boy.

"Have a good day, kids," Charlie called as he left. "Hattie, Dr. Cullen called—he wants to squeeze you in on Friday."

Her heart leapt as she realized this meant she'd be getting her cast off—and _before _the dance!

"Yes!" she squealed. Then, for good measure, "I just know I'll get it off! It doesn't even hurt anymore!"

_Due to my own machinations…_she thought mischievously.

"Well don't get your hopes up," Charlie chuckled. "Doc said he thought it was still a little early, but he knew you were going to the dance…"

"We'll see," Hattie smiled.

The trio got up to leave as well. It was only seconds after Charlie left that they saw Edward's Volvo pull in.

"Again?" Beau asked playfully. "He could at least knock on the door like a gentleman."

"Oh, shut up," Bella groaned, rolling her eyes.

Throughout the day Hattie noticed Edward and Bella chatting animatedly. She seemed to have him completely enraptured—and vice versa. Hattie didn't know what they were talking about (didn't even ask), but she was happy for her sister.

Even Beau had taken this opportunity to spend more time with Angela. It gave Hattie a lot of time to observe—her sister was absent, her best friend and brother were entertaining each other, and even Eric was leaving her alone due to the upcoming dance and his date of choice. She got a lot of homework done because she finished classwork early and didn't have anyone to chat to.

And, of course, the observing.

One thing Hattie had noticed was the oddness of the Cullen family in general, but especially certain members. The older ones—Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper—were seniors, so she never saw them. But Alice was in Hattie and Beau's art class. She was great, creating art akin to masterpieces. When Ms. Coal praised her, she said it was nothing…she wanted to be a fashion designer, after all, and fashion designers needed to be artistic.

Edythe was in their English class and she tended to ignore everyone around her, but lately, her eyes kept wandering to Beau. Hattie noticed that this morning she was especially attentive to Hattie's brother, her eyes wandering more often than not to his hunched-over form. Often, she would squint at him or draw her eyebrows together.

Hattie wondered if Beau's crush was reciprocated after all. And, if so, what that would mean for him and Angela—and Angela and Hattie's friendship.

Everyone had talents—Hattie herself was a great athlete, when she wasn't indisposed, and she was particularly talented in defensive magics and healing magics—and everyone had crushes. But for some reason the Cullens' perfectness was overwhelming, the way they brushed off praise and ignored feelings was a sort of modesty or stubbornness not often seen in high school students. Even Edward, who seemed to be the most down-to-earth member of the crew, was strange.

In gym Hattie was certain she'd finally get a moment or two with her siblings, but alas Coach Clapp stole the able-bodied members of the class away as soon as they were out of the changing rooms. It was funny to watch Beau and Bella, teammates today, try and win a single game of badminton. The Coach spent most of the class shouting "tips" at them and berating them: "Good god, Swan! Not you, other Swan!"

After gym she finally got Beau, but Bella was whisked away by Edward.

"They sure are enamored," Beau grunted as he started the engine. "Not sure how much I like him."

"What? What's wrong with Edward?" Hattie demanded, squirming around in her seat so that she could watch Bella and Edward climb into the Volvo. As with yesterday, the rest of the family was squished in the back of an ostentatious orange convertible.

"Nothing's _wrong _with him," Beau responded reluctantly. "He's just…"

"Oh, come off it," Hattie laughed. "Stop trying to play over-protective brother, that's so ten years ago."

"Hey, just because this 'strong, independent woman' thing has finally taken hold, doesn't mean I can't be protective," Beau retorted. "Bet you anything Charlie's gonna have his gun out when she brings him home."

"He didn't with Jake," Hattie chirped.

"He knows Jake," Beau said. "He _likes _Jake."

"He will like Edward. Edward is a gentleman."

"Yeah, yeah," Beau grunted, rolling his eyes.

Hattie had to laugh at him. He tried very hard to be a big manly-man, but he'd been raised by women all his life—even Charlie's influence wasn't enough to rough the edges of his softness. It was a good thing. He suited gentleness, in a way Hattie wasn't sure he'd suit overpowering masculinity.

At home they settled in the kitchen to do their homework. Hattie puttered around the cupboards and fridge, beginning to think about dinner preparations, and thought to herself that they may need to go grocery shopping soon. Beau quizzed her as she sloppily began preparing food, asking her questions about their current English assignment—_Their Eyes Were Watching God. _

The clock was striking six thirty, the sun disappearing beyond the horizon, when Hattie heard a new car approach. She headed to the window, curious: she knew the sound of Charlie's cruiser, and whoever had just pulled in definitely was not him.

"Visitors?" Beau wondered, heading toward the window. He twitched the shades back. "I don't recognize the car. You?"

"Mm, I don't either," Hattie responded. They stood in the window together, watching Bella get out of the Volvo. After a few moments, Edward squealed out of the driveway, gravel popping beneath his tires. "Well _someone's _in a rush."

Bella was approaching the driver's side of the new vehicle, now. The window rolled down, and through the rain it was hard to tell what was happening—then Charlie's cruiser swung around the corner, headlights illuminating the scene. It was _Jacob _in the passenger seat. He'd finally gotten a car up and running and had finally made good on his promise to come to Forks.

Hattie bounced excitedly in place, a thrill of pleasure jolting through her body.

"Looks like _your _boyfriend came to pay a visit too," teased Beau, grinning widely at her. Hattie was already dashing toward the door.

"He's not my boyfriend!" she squealed, throwing the door open and darting out into the rain. Her bare feet splashed on the pavement and the rain was icy down her neck. She was so excited to see him, she didn't even pause to throw on a jacket.

"Hattie!" Jacob's startled laughter was booming, causing the other three to glance up. Charlie and Jacob were in the midst of getting Billy into his wheelchair, but Jacob paused to catch Hattie. "What are you doing? You're gonna catch a cold!"

"I missed you!" Hattie laughed, catapulting herself at him. She danced a little in place as he hugged her, not letting either foot touch the ground for too long. "It's cold out here!"

"Y'know, most civilized beings put shoes on before they bolt out the door," Charlie grunted, chuckling. "Get on inside now, Hattie, Bells. Jake and I can handle this from here."

Bella tore her eyes from Billy, who Hattie noticed was staring at her like he'd seen a ghost. His eyes were wide, a little horrified—Hattie wondered what had happened before she came out. Bella tilted her head toward the house, looking confused and worried herself, and the sisters marched side-by-side toward the door. Beau was there, waiting with a stack of towels, which Hattie and Bella took advantage of.

Hattie wrapped herself in one, wiping her bare feet on the welcome rug to dry them a little. Bella was ruffling one through her hair, laying her soggy bookbag on a kitchen chair.

"What was that all about?" Hattie asked, motioning toward the door with her head. "Billy seemed spooked."

Bella shrugged half-heartedly. "Edward gave me a ride home from school. I don't know if he likes the Cullens."

Hattie scrunched her eyebrows up. "Really? Weird. He seemed almost scared."

The boys were coming in through the door. Hattie turned, still wrapped in her towel, as Jacob came through. He grinned roguishly at her, his too-white teeth showing between parted lips—and then he proceeded to shake his wet hair in her direction.

"Jacob!" Hattie yelped, pulling her towel closed around her face. "Rude!"

His hands parted the towel and Hattie blinked up at him. Suddenly it was as if they were the only two people in the universe—him, his t-shirt clinging a little to his body, towering over her slighter form. They were so close together she could lean her head forward and rest it against his shoulder, but the way he was holding her towel open was almost cupping her cheeks.

"Nice to see you," he murmured gently, his warm breath brushing across her face. It smelled like peppermint gum, and vanilla. Hattie didn't think he smoked, but he even smelled like the vaguest hint of tobacco. It was a pleasant scent, soothing, and his very presence—the touch of his thumb over her cheekbone, the proximity of his body to hers—eased the tension in her shoulders.

She got caught up in him. Just like she always did when he was around. It didn't matter that she could hear her siblings putting dinner in the oven, or Billy and Charlie clattering in the front door. The Minister himself could have been speaking to her and she wouldn't care, not entwined with Jacob the way she was.

"You got your car running," Hattie responded, slightly breathlessly. His grin lifted one cheek slightly higher than the other, squinting the eye closed a little. It was endearing to her, the way it made his eyes glint.

"Nah, we borrowed this one—the Rabbit's still missing parts. Billy wanted to watch the game."

"And Jacob was anxious to see Hattie again," called Billy's deep tenor from the background. Hattie was keen to ignore it, but Jacob pulled away, rolling his eyes.

"Thanks, dad."

"You're doin' good with them, Charlie," Billy said, ignoring his son's voice. Hattie's eyes were still on Jacob, searching the plane between his shoulder-blades now. It was crazy how easy it was to lose herself in his presence. "All their books out on the kitchen table. They could teach my kid a thing or two."

"Yep, I've gotta studious crew," Charlie chuckled. "C'mon, let's head into the living room."

Billy and Charlie went through to the living room and Hattie heard the TV kick on as they began bickering between themselves. Hattie checked dinner (some simple hot sandwiches), trying not to look at Jacob.

Bella had said she felt electricitywhen she was with Edward, sparks, like a burning warmth where he touched her. Hattie had been somewhat wistful, then, because she had never felt that—but now she realized she didn't need sparks to _know. _It was obvious in the way she could drown in Jacob's eyes, get lost in the feeling of his fingertips on her skin. It felt like standing in the eye of a hurricane—everything around you was chaos, but you were eerily, indescribably calm.

When Jacob was there, her worries melted away. They simply didn't matter.

It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.

She didn't know much about romance, or relationships, or love. But she knew that being near him felt like being whole.

And that spoke for itself, right?

He leaned against the counter next to her, his arm brushing hers. There were no magical sparks, but the touch sent soothing shivers down her spine. She smiled to herself and pressed a little further against him.

Bella and Beau were discussing cars with Jacob. Hattie forced herself to tune in once she'd spun the sandwiches in the oven, not wanting to seem too weird.

"Yeah, the truck's fine," Beau was saying. "We take it to school every day. Bella just got a ride home with a…_friend _today."

"It was a nice ride," agreed Jacob, sounding admiring. "I didn't recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the kids around here."

Bella seemed to be avoiding responding. Hattie glanced at her sister curiously—she was staring intensely at the floor. Was she…embarrassed to be seen with Edward? That didn't seem right. Was she embarrassed to be caught, perhaps? Afraid Jacob would tell Charlie?

Beau obviously didn't interpret his twin's silence for anything other than awkwardness, almost immediately answering Jacob. "That was Edward Cullen. Doesn't surprise me you didn't recognize him, the Cullens really keep to themselves."

Hattie and Bella stared at Beau, but he was oblivious.

Jacob startled them all by laughing. Hattie glanced up at the sound, which sent pleasant bubbles through her belly—she liked when he was happy. But he seemed a little bit embarrassed, strangely.

"Guess that explains it, then. I wondered why my dad was acting so strange."

Bella reluctantly responded. "That's right," she said, sounding hollow. "He doesn't like the Cullens."

"Superstitious old man," Jacob muttered, wrapping his arm around Hattie. "Did Bella tell you the stories I told her?"

"About the Quileute legends, with the wolves?" Hattie confirmed. Bella looked like she wanted to interrupt, but didn't know how.

"Yeah. Technically we're not supposed to share them with outsiders," Jacob winked. "You guys won't rat me out, will you?"

Hattie was still reeling a little—unsure why Billy disliked the Cullens or what that had to do with the Quileute legends Jacob had told Bella. She didn't have a chance to ask for an explanation though, because Bella was already agreeing they wouldn't tell anyone.

Odd.

She told herself it was probably to do with the fact that the Cullens were hunters—or so she assumed, anyways. They went camping and hiking an awful lot and it wouldn't be a huge leap to assume they hunted, too. Perhaps they'd been caught hunting wolves on Quileute lands, and that's why Billy didn't like them. This theory made a lot of sense to her, so she didn't push it.

After dinner, which Jacob didn't participate in ("We ate right before we came," he explained), Bella announced she was going to retire to the lofts.

"Oh yeah," Jacob nodded. "I forgot, Charlie and some of the boys redid the garage. Can I come see it?"

"Oh—I don't know—" Bella said, haltingly.

"That would be great!" Hattie interrupted, bouncing a little. "It's lovely!"

Bella shot her a scathing look, but Hattie brushed it off. Whatever awkwardness Bella imagined between her and Jacob was none of Hattie's concern. She went to tell Charlie that they were going to take Jacob to the garage, but he looked concerned.

"Just you two?" he grunted, frowning heavily at Jacob, in the doorway behind her.

"No, Bella's coming too," Hattie explained, confused.

"And Beau?" Charlie prompted.

"Why would Beau…?" Hattie asked. Her eyebrows drew together before she suddenly realized what he was hinting at. "Uncle Charlie! It's not like that!"

"Well when you say you're taking a boy to your room—"

"_Uncle Charlie!_"

"We'll bring Beau," Jacob interrupted, sounding amused.

"Don't stay out there too long, the game's almost over and I'm tired," Billy called.

Hattie was rolling her eyes all the way into the kitchen, where Jacob informed Beau he'd be chaperoning.

The four of them headed out into the night, rushing to get out of the drizzling rain. They gave Jacob a small tour of the loft. There wasn't much to show him, but he seemed impressed anyways. Apparently, the garage hadn't been much to look at before Charlie and "the boys" remodeled it.

"This is Bella's room, that one's mine," Hattie explained. Bella was disappearing into her own room as Hattie opened her door. Both boys followed her in.

It was strange having them in her room. The only ones who'd been in here were Bella and herself—Beau didn't normally come up, there wasn't much need for him to. Charlie had apparently checked on them a couple of times, mostly the week following the accident, but even then, Hattie had spent a few days in the house before she was recovered enough to come back to the loft.

Now she felt sort of self-conscious about the state of her room. It was spic and span—not like a normal teenager's room. The bed was made precisely, even though she would immediately shove the blankets and pillows into a nest-like formation upon going to bed. Her books were lined up, dust-free, on her shelves. All her laundry was hanging in the closet just so, and the laundry basket was empty. The carpet was freshly vacuumed. Any decorations Hattie had were minimal and tidy.

"Interesting," Jacob said after a moment of looking around. "I didn't peg you as one of those meticulous cleaners."

"I told you I was a neat freak," Hattie murmured bashfully.

"Everyone says that," Jacob laughed. "Most people aren't actually."

"I am."

She wondered what he garnered from looking at her room. It felt very…personal. Having him, the object of her affections, standing in the room where she spent the majority of her alone time—where she slept, changed, lounged, learned. Where she dreamt…sometimes about him. Hattie wondered what he saw when he glanced at every corner of the room. What did 'interesting' mean?

Beau didn't really enter the room, just stood at the doorway. Clearly, he took his job as chaperone very seriously.

Perhaps she needed a chaperone. She was liable to get lost in Jacob's presence, after all.

Jacob just stood there in the middle of the room, though, looking around. His hands were in his pockets and he seemed a little out of place. Finally, he turned to her with that roguish little grin.

"Can I see your dress for Saturday?"

The question came from out of nowhere, but it warmed Hattie a little. She suddenly realized that it was Thursday night—less than forty-eight hours until the dance. She wondered if a school dance could be considered a first date.

Either way, she was elated.

"Isn't that bad luck?" Hattie teased.

"I think that's just weddings," Jacob disagreed. He pursed his lips at her. "You're not gonna show me, are you?"

"Nah," Hattie laughed. "Let's not risk it, just in case. Let it be a surprise."

"I like surprises," Jacob murmured, suddenly serious. His eyes sparkled with an intense emotion Hattie couldn't identify. "I'm going to pick you up, on Saturday. Okay?"

"Yeah," Hattie nodded, heart fluttering in her chest. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"I think it's time to go," Beau said quietly, seeming not to want to interrupt. "I just saw Charlie and Billy come out of the house."

Hattie sighed. "Alright…we're coming."

Beau left them standing there, obviously trusting they wouldn't try anything sneaky knowing that Billy was waiting on them. When she turned back around to face Jacob again, he was much closer than before—they were almost touching.

"I'm glad I got to come and see you," Jacob said softly. He smiled down at her. "I can't wait for the dance."

"I can't either," Hattie responded, staring at him. She was forcing herself not to become mesmerized. "I've missed you."

"We've both been busy," Jacob muttered regretfully. "I'll see you soon, Hattie. Alright?"

"Yeah…I'll see you soon."

He didn't touch her as he walked carefully around to the door, glancing over his shoulder. Hattie followed him out, wishing she'd had more alone time with him. She never got to actually _talk _to him, they just begroaned their mutual fate of missing each other. What a waste of time.

She resigned herself to Saturday, wishing—hoping—that would be the night that their relationship finally went somewhere.

He was at the top of the stairs when she caught up to him, just standing there. When he heard her approach, he turned slowly, looking torn.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Jacob chuckled giddily, scratching the back of his neck. "You like me, right, Hattie? I mean, you must—you asked me to the dance…"

"I like you," Hattie assured quickly, her cheeks heating up. "A lot."

"I like you a lot, too," he agreed. "You're beautiful, and cheerful, and sweet and kind, and you have so many great qualities it probably shouldn't be legal. Anyone would be blind not to see it. And I want to get to know you better, like a lot better."

"Jacob?" Hattie asked unsurely, blinking at him. Her chest was tight with emotion, pleasure bubbling in her tummy.

"Everyone keeps interrupting and I just thought, it's not the right time, you know? So I thought maybe Saturday—but why not now?"

"Jacob?" Hattie repeated, confused now.

But then he was leaning forward, quick as a fox, to capture her lips in a kiss. Their first kiss. Hattie's first kiss, period. He bent forward a little to make up for the height difference, his hand on the back of her neck. She was shocked, her hands in the air before them, unsure where to put them.

It wasn't like how she could've imagined it, here in the darkened stairwell. His lips were warm and smooth against hers and he tasted exactly how he smelled, like peppermint and vanilla and a hint of tobacco. He did most of the work, the slant of his lips across hers moving slowly and coaxing her into responding. She was sloppy, inexperienced, but it was _fun. _There was, apparently, a reason that people liked kissing: the act in itself wasn't particularly pleasurable in the literal sense of the word, but it was _pleasant, _intimate, and the feelings it alit in her body were certainly of the pleasurable kind.

Hattie liked it a lot. She liked the way that his thumb stroked across her neck, the jolts of pleasure it sent like white-hot prickers into the pit of her stomach. She liked how his other hand came to rest on her hip, almost holding her in position—she liked how he was a little domineering, but not overbearing. Her hands came to rest on his chest, fisting a little in his shirt, but the kiss was over all too soon. He pulled away with one last little peck, breathing heavily.

"I'm sorry," he said, running a hand over his face. "Wow."

"Don't be sorry," Hattie murmured, wide-eyed. "That was…"

"Wow," Jacob repeated, letting the hand resting on her neck fall to her other hip.

"Yeah," Hattie agreed, huddling closer to him. She rested against his chest and let him hold her, not wanting the moment to end. "That was perfect, Jacob."

"I've wanted to do that since I first saw you on that fishing boat," Jacob reminisced. "Bundled up like a little marshmallow in your winter clothes."

"I've wanted you to kiss me since Christmas," Hattie admitted.

"I could've knocked Seth's stupid grin off his face that day," Jacob grumbled. "I didn't want him to look at you—you looked so perfect."

"My clothes didn't fit me," Hattie protested. Jacob's shoulders shook a little bit and she looked up to see him laughing, but he didn't respond.

Finally, after another long moment, he sighed. "I should really go, Hattie. Before they come looking for us."

"I know…" she murmured.

"Goodnight, Hattie," Jacob told her, those intense dark eyes staring into her soul.

"Goodnight, Jacob."

She watched him leave from the window in the hallway. Charlie and Billy had been chatting long enough that they didn't realize anything was amiss, but she could see Beau staring at Jacob's back as he passed, clearly knowing something had happened. Her brother didn't say anything, though, just waved goodbye and retreated into the house.

Hattie couldn't help but feel like he'd given them a second alone on purpose.

He was a good brother.

She retreated into her room, flopping onto her bed and sighing happily. The kiss was everything she'd dreamed of and more.

Hattie was just kicking off her shoes when her phone dinged.

**Group: THREE LITTLE SWANS**

_**/Mrs. Cullen's name has been changed to Frizzabella**_

_**/Hattie-Dearest's name has been changed to Baby Bird**_

**Frizzabella: beau what r u doing**

**Baby Bird: why am i a bird**

** A baby bird at that**

_**/Bozo's name has been changed to The Boy**_

**Frizzabella: there if we have to have stupid names so do u**

**The Boy: seriously**

**Baby Bird: im going to bed**

**The Boy: did jakey boy kiss u hattie? **

** Hattie?**

** did u fall asleep already**

**Frizzabella: you cant just ask something like that beau!**

** besides you were chaperoning remember**

**The Boy: i left and they were right behind me but it took them a long time**

** and jake looked way too happy when he came down**

**Frizzabella: …**

** hattie?**

**Baby Bird: i hate you both and im going to sleep goodbye**

So maybe Beau wasn't that great of a brother after all.

* * *

_So like, I didn't know there was an actual process to becoming an Animagi when I originally wrote this last year. Later chapters take the official way into account (which is annoying because I wanted the Animagi transformation to be REALLY EASY for Hattie as a testament to how powerful a wizard can be when they're taught without a wand, but the Animagi transformation like...doesn't use any magic xD so I had to change things) but the explanations in this chapter and maybe in the next couple chapters are a little weird because of it. Sorry~!_

_So yeah Hattie and Jakey-boy finally get up to a lil somethin' somethin'. Jacob's pretty scarce in the Twilight arc of things so it's weird but hey we'll go with it._

_Also I like really just want to write for HP right now. But this story is giving me a heck of a time. I am still stuck on 41 and I might just have to deal with it being a crappy chapter and push through it because I don't know what else to do haha._

_Thanks for reading and thank you to my commenters :) I really appreciate it. It makes me happy when I see someone has commented!_


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